


The house won’t fall, when the bones are good.

by DropsOfAddiction



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Stiles, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Blushing Derek Hale, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Boys In Love, Class Differences, Come Eating, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Dancing Stiles Stilinski, Danger, Deepthroating, Denial of Feelings, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Has a Big Dick, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale is Good at Feelings, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski UST, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Evil Gerard Argent, Evil Kate Argent, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Historical Fantasy, Horseback Riding, Idiots in Love, Jealous Derek, Jealous Stiles Stilinski, Kissing, Licking, Love Confessions, Love Stories, Love at First Sight, M/M, Manhandling, Masked ball, Mutual Pining, Pack Family, Passion, Pining Derek, Protective Derek, Protective Pack, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Rebuilding the Hale House, Rimming, Romantic Angst, Romantic Derek Hale, Scent Marking, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott is a Good Friend, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Shy Derek Hale, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Sex, Slow Dancing, Some Humor, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Uses A Baseball Bat, Stiles Stilinski's Scent, The Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), The Hale House, Top Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Top Stiles Stilinski, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Werewolf Derek, Wolf Derek Hale, balls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25000351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfAddiction/pseuds/DropsOfAddiction
Summary: Stiles gets stuck on the man’s eyes; they are the strangest pale mix of grey, blue and hazel, the lights from the house making the silvers in his waistcoat reflect off them, colours dancing.They are almost glowing. His eyes are positively wild.The stranger’s intense gaze reminds Stiles of a thunder storm he’d once watched from the window of the kitchen at Beacon Manor, a myriad of shades bouncing in the sky, electric.Stiles is as fascinated now as he was then. He wouldn’t be able to look away if you gave him twenty gold bars to do so.Stiles notices, though the man is not wearing it, a silver and black mask is clutched in his broad hand.Stiles licks his lips involuntarily and he touches his own fingers to his cheeks to ensure his own mask is still in place. The stranger tracks the movement, gaze following Stiles’ fingers, before seeming to catch himself.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 72
Kudos: 624





	1. Have courage and be kind...

**Author's Note:**

> Well someone push me in a puddle, I’m finished...
> 
> As always, I’ve taken a million and four liberties here, I’ve made up way more stuff than usual. This is not meant to be set in a particular real time or have any origins in the real world at all, so back off fiends, back off I say.
> 
> You’ll probably see my inspirations throughout in the chapter titles, from all the best fairytales: Beauty and the beast, Cinderella, Sleeping beauty... Although, to be honest, I don’t remember much sexy times being in those. The title is inspired from the song, “The bones” by Maren Morris and Hozier. The lyrics were just too perfect for this entire thing...
> 
> I really hope you enjoy. I loved writing this so much. If you’re reading it, thank you for the support.

—————

“Scott, you have to hurry. Hide the damned thing! Wait... no, wait, it’s too late, she’s coming. Seriously, quickly, just move yourself!” Stiles Stillinski frantically gestures to his best friend Scott McCall, whispering loudly in his barely contained panic.

Scott’s eyes go wide in distress. 

Scott’s cheeks are bulging outwards from the huge chunks of bread he’d been shovelling into his mouth; Stiles swallows down a near hysterical laugh at the comical sight his friend makes, knowing that if they’re caught here, like this, then laughter will be the last thing on either of their minds.

Scott reminds him of a chubby cheeked, brown haired, little hamster. He’s holding out the half eaten loaf in front of him towards Stiles, gripping it in his fingertips, as if it’s a flea infested cloak instead; he jumps up and down on the cobbled floor of the kitchen quarters, desperately trying to both chew and swallow the evidence at the same time.

Stiles hears the clicking of heeled boots approaching them rapidly and he knows they’re in deep trouble. 

He would know the sound of that clip clopping gait anywhere. It features in his nightmares frequently.

Those boots belong to the Lady of the house, Katherine. 

Lady Katherine has been known to beat servants for blunders as inconsequential as the temperature of her tea being off, just ever so slightly. 

Stiles shudders visibly at the thought of what she might do to them if she finds them stealing bread, not to mention what she might do if she finds them out of bed, in the middle of the night.

Stiles makes a split second decision and he snatches the loaf out of Scott’s outstretched and shaking hands. 

Stiles launches the bread with all his might down the corridor that leads out of the kitchen and down towards their sleeping quarters. 

The chewed on rustic loaf bounces loudly and incriminatingly off a stone wall at the far end of the passageway and it skitters to a stop outside their own bedroom door, crumbs flying everywhere.

Stiles fights an insane urge to cheer, to pay homage to his good aim and the impressive distance he has achieved. 

He’s never been one for sports. He might invent competitive bread tossing if he survives the night. It’s rather a big _if_.

Stiles sees their bedroom door open just a slither at the end of the dark hallway, dull candlelight creeping out of the gap revealed. 

A tall figure, with a shaggy mop of bed messed curls pokes it’s head out and picks up the bread hesitantly. 

Stiles can see confusion etched on the newcomers face, their features illuminated in the weak glow of the candlelight. 

Stiles sees their eyes widening in disbelief when they look around blinking sleepily, and the man’s mouth drops open in shock when they spot Stiles and Scott further down the corridor, out in the open kitchen.

Stiles pleads silently at the figure and he puts his hands together in a praying, begging motion. 

Isaac, bless his selfless soul, sets his brow and he nods determinedly at Stiles. 

Isaac heads back inside their shared room. He takes the incriminating loaf with him, clutched tightly to his nightshirt. 

When Issac shuts the wooden door with a quiet _snick_ the corridor is plunged into near darkness once again.

Stiles’ heart is threatening to beat out of his chest, throat tight as he hears the hushed voices just metres away from the opposite doorway, quickly approaching the second entrance to the kitchen leading into the main body of the house.

Stiles shoulders Scott hard into the wide open pantry and he yanks a heavy sack of flour against the outside of the door to cover the picked lock that’s hanging open, no time to re-bolt it; he has approximately three more seconds to dart behind the large, wooden food preparation table nearer to the corn sacks and he attempts to compose himself by taking a deep steadying breath.

Lady Katherine rounds the corner suddenly and then she is upon him.

Stiles stares down at his well worn shoes and he clasps his hands together tightly in front of himself.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here then boy? Aren’t you getting a little old to be sneaking out of your bedroom at night and stealing from the pantry? Twenty miserable years you’ve been on this earth and you’re still acting like a naughty, unruly child,” Lady Katherine’s voice is misleadingly calm but her icy tone chills Stiles’ blood, making him feel positively sick with dread and apprehension.

Unfortunately, he’s no stranger to Lady Katherine and her unique _ways_. 

Stiles has lived at Beacon Manor, in the town of Beacon Hills since he was a child of just four. The Argent family have been the masters of the house for nearly four years now, ever since Stiles was sixteen years of age. 

So yes, Stiles has learnt the hard way that Kate (he resolutely refuses to address her by her proper title, even his head, keeping at least one of his freedoms) has many voices, the same as she has many different faces. 

Stiles has a very sure feeling in his stomach that he’s going to experience some of the more ugly and cruel faces of hers tonight.

“Aunt Kate, he’s just hungry... Please. Grandpa Gerard had Stiles and Scott clean out the stables while dinner was served, so they didn’t even get to eat...” Another voice, melodic and gentle joins the older woman’s.

Stiles chances a glance upwards and he sends a prayer skyward at the sight in front of him. Long dark curls frame a pale, kind face with soft brown eyes.

He silently thanks whoever deemed it his lucky night and saw fit to send the gentle Miss. Allison to accompany her vile Aunt.

“Allison sweetheart, I’m _very_ disappointed in you. Have you learnt nothing from your time spent with me this summer? If you let the _help_ run amok, it will be chaos here in no time. I think I’ll have to teach Stiles here a little lesson and remind him of his status. There has to be some order, wouldn’t you agree? Now tell me, where’s your sidekick boy? I’m sure the McCall idiot isn’t far away...” Kate sneers at Stiles.

“My Lady. I apologise for my apparent indiscretion. However, despite the compromising position I seem to have found myself in, I was not in fact _stealing_ , as you seem to have presumed. Wrongly, I might add. I was actually awoken from my slumber by scratching noises and I suspected that mice may have gotten into the seed sacks. I thought it best to be vigilant and check. I would be positively _besides myself_ to think of you eating mice droppings, mixed in with your breakfast grain,” Stiles offers pleasantly, eyes still on the floor but his voice must betray him. 

Nothing would please him more than that thought, in actual fact.

Scott always says his wit is far too dry for the average person to appreciate. Something in Stiles’ tone must give him away to Kate as being something less than genuine in his explanation.

Kate grabbing his chin roughly startles him, her long fingernails marking little half moons into his soft skin. 

She forces his head up so she can look at him directly in the eyes. They’re almost of the same height, but Stiles has recently outgrown her, so he stands just an inch above her. 

Since she realised that fact, Kate has taken to wearing her highest heeled boots, even around the house.

“At least have the decency to look me in the eye when you lie to me you wretched boy. You don’t seem to have learnt anything at all from your previous punishments. Perhaps I was too soft on you, hmm?” Kate bares her teeth at him.

“Aunt Kate! Let him go, _please_. He clearly hasn’t taken any food, the pantry is still closed off, look. There is no harm done here. Stiles, we should thank you for your vigilance,” Allison, bless her soft heart, pleads with her Aunt, desperation lacing every word. 

Allison takes Kate’s elbow.

Kate doesn’t release Stiles. Instead she brushes a thumb over Stiles’ lip and he fights the urge to lick any traces of bread crumbs away, save he highlight his guilt any further. 

He also fights the urge to take a chunk out of Kate’s hand with his teeth. The second urge is much harder to deny.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Kate whispers to him, “tell me where the McCall boy is and maybe I’ll only beat you on your body and I’ll spare your pretty face this time...”

Stiles cringes at her hot, sour breath creeping over his skin, her scent carrying the remnants of fish from the earlier dinner he’d helped Melissa prepare, but didn’t get to taste a morsel of for himself. 

He wishes that earlier that evening had been the first time he and Scott had been set tasks meaning they’d miss out on dinner, but sadly, it was a very common occurrence since the Argents had taken up residence at Beacon Manor.

He hears a door toward the end of the corridor where their rooms lay click open, and soft footsteps approach them.

“Good evening Lady Katherine. Is there a problem here?” Stiles feels Melissa come to stand at his side and he feels immediately, infinitely better. 

Melissa radiates comfort and strength, even when she’s just in her nightgown, barefoot. 

Melissa leans her shoulder into Stiles’ and he lets out a sigh of relief at her presence. 

For some reason Kate avoids going to toe to toe with Melissa at all costs. 

Stiles thinks Kate is maybe a little afraid of her. Melissa stares at Kate’s hand on Stiles’ face pointedly.

Kate releases his chin with an exaggerated huff, finally, and she rubs her hand on her dress, as if Stiles has made her unclean somehow.

“Good evening Melissa... I suggest you discipline your boy, he’s been caught out of bed in the middle of the night _yet again_ ,” Kate turns her nose up at Melissa.

Melissa ignores her entirely and she addresses Stiles instead, turning her back to Kate to look at him fully. 

Kate’s face is pure fury at the blatant show of disobedience but she doesn’t challenge Melissa.

Melissa winks at Stiles and she mouths _Play along._

“Did you finally find that damned mouse that I keep hearing at night Stiles?” Melissa asks him, voice overly theatrical.

She’s a great mother figure to him, the absolute best, but her acting skills could use work... but still...

“Oh! Erm... no! I did not. I thought I heard it again tonight and I came out here to check, but sadly no. I did not catch the little beggar,” Stiles’ body sags with relief at the reinforcement of his excuse.

“Drat. Oh well. Another evening may see us have more luck maybe. The little mouse lives to fight another day. Well, back to bed with you. I assume you secured the sacks?” Melissa asks Stiles.

“Yes Ma’am,” Stiles nods, “all tied up tightly.”

“Good. Now off to bed, you’ve kept the ladies of the house awake long enough,” Melissa dismisses him and she turns back to face Kate, placing herself between her mistresss and Stiles.

“Now wait just a moment...” Kate says as she eyes the pantry door suspiciously and Stiles feels his heartbeat thunder in renewed panic.

Stiles frantically tries to signal to Melissa that Scott is in there and even Allison looks alarmed, biting her lip and looking at Stiles wide eyed.

“Wait, allow me my Lady...” Melissa tries but Kate yanks the flour sack away and she pulls open the door to reveal... nothing... there is nothing in there apart from the normal food supplies.

Stiles peers over Kate’s shoulder in disbelief, eyes searching for his brother.

“Huh... I must not have locked the pantry earlier,” Allison pipes up when Kate fingers the picked lock, “Melissa, I hope you don’t mind, I had an urge to finish those delightful cookies you made for after dinner and I’m afraid I helped myself.” 

Stiles knows Allison is lying and by the hard line of her brow, so does Kate. Really, there’s nothing Kate can say, save for calling her niece a liar outright in front of the help. And that simply wouldn’t be proper or becoming of a Lady.

Kate throws the lock at Melissa, who catches it easily.

“You’ve been lucky tonight boy,” Kate sneers and she points at Stiles.

She glances at Melissa, “your mother dearest here wont always be around to save you, you know...” 

Kate saunters away, skirts swishing wildly with all of her stomping. Allison throws them both an apologetic, grim smile before following after her Aunt, her evening robe trailing on the floor behind her.

Melissa maintains a cheery grin on her face right up until the ladies are out of sight. Then, her body sags when they finally round the corner and she turns and smacks Stiles hard around the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” He rubs the spot, one eye closed in a grimace of pain.

“You know what that was for! You are very lucky that Isaac snuck into my room to tell me what she’d caught you both doing. He said he’d overheard you caught in a lie about looking for foraging mice! And then he said you threw a loaf of bread at him. Are you completely _insane?_ I have told you all to lie low and stay out of trouble for just two more weeks. I’ve nearly saved enough money for us to leave here, head for another town, somewhere far away. Even with the pittance that the Argents are now paying me, our freedom is in sight Stiles. _Do not_ give her any excuse to take you away from me...” Melissa says vehemently and she hugs him tightly.

Stiles allows himself to sag into her, taking the comfort offered.

They would have been far away from this place a year ago, except Melissa, Stiles and Scott had all agreed they now needed enough money to take Isaac with them.

They had all been in agreement, there was no way they were leaving him alone with the Argents.

“I’m really very sorry Mel,” Stiles whispers, “we came in from cleaning the stables and we were half starved. I was so convinced they’d all be in bed already.”

“When have I ever let you idiots go hungry? Your lack of trust offends me. There is a tray of cookies under the loose floorboard in yours and Scott’s room,” Mellisa lets him go, “and speaking of my wayward son, where the devil is he?”

Stiles goes back toward the pantry.

_Where is Scott?_

That is the question indeed.

Stiles opens the door and like magic, there Scott is standing, wide grin on his goofy face and shaggy brown hair flopping in his eyes.

“How in Lucifer’s name did you manage that?” Stiles asks in awe.

Scott lets his shift come over him, eyes glowing deep red and he jumps up gracefully to the top of the shelving unit, usually unreachable without a ladder. He balances comfortably there. 

Scott closes his eyes and he perches, stock still and at a glance, even looking up, Stiles would never know anyone was even there.

Especially not without foreknowledge of Scott’s supernatural disposition.

“You are an actual genius Brother,” Stiles breathes out, grinning widely, “thank the gods for your moon curse and I offer a salute to the feral beast that bit you.”

Melissa clips him about the ear again, harder this time.

“Don’t jest about that,” Melissa growls at him.

“It _was_ a feral beast Mother, Stiles is right. Also _you’re_ the one who is a genius Brother,” Scott jumps down and he hugs Melissa and he pecks her on the cheek before turning to Stiles, “A cheeky defecating mouse, where do you come up with such ideas? I wonder if we can get into that old passage near Kate the Snake’s bedroom and make some scratching noises, send her really loopy?”

Melissa strikes both of them around the head this time.

“ _Two weeks_. You need to lay low for just two more weeks, just until my end of month wages payment. Then we shall be gone. Now to bed with you both, we have just three days until the Argents plan to attend the masked ball at the Hale House. It’s the next town over, all the way down in Beacon Valley, so they will leave early in the evening to make the ride in good time and I need you two on sewing duty all day tomorrow. We have Kate’s gown to finish and two masks. Gerard is also attending you see, but the rest of the family are not. Remember, Gerard has asked us not to say anything about the ball to his son and granddaughter. Christopher and Allison will apparently not be attending. Gerard mentioned he’d like our discretion, something about not upsetting Allison since her mother passed away,” Melissa pushes them down the corridor after securing the pantry.

Victoria Argent, Christopher’s wife and Lady Allison’s mother, had died when Allison was quite young. She had contracted an illness, nothing untoward about it.

Stiles unfortunately has some sinister knowledge of why Gerard might want to keep Allison and Christopher away from the Hale masked ball, and it has nothing to do with the reasons the old man had given Melissa. 

“Oh Mother, you know how much I detest sewing,” Scott groans.

“That’s because you find it difficult due to your clumsy little sausage fingers,” Stiles shoves Scott into the wall.

They scuffle until Stiles gets Scott in a headlock and Melissa pushes them both into their bedroom, bidding them a firm goodnight. 

Isaac is sitting stiffly, chewing on his nails. He is bolt upright on his single bed near the wall.

The room is still lit up with a few candles.

Scott climbs up into his top bunk easily, the old wood groaning precariously. Stiles winces. It’s a genuine fear of his that one of these nights Scott will come crashing down upon him while he slumbers and he’ll meet his untimely end, squashed into his bedsheets by his best friend.

Stiles prises open the loose floorboard to retrieve the aforementioned cookies and also the half eaten loaf, before flopping onto the bottom bunk and tucking into their stash.

He throws a cookie up to Scott and one over to Isaac who catches it deftly, even though Stiles’ aim was wide. 

Werewolf reflexes really were something to be admired. 

Both Scott and Isaac had been bitten, but both had very different tales of how they came to be lycanthropic in nature.

Where Scott was attacked by a wild roaming omega wolf some years ago in the surrounding Beacon Hill’s woodlands, Isaac had come to Beacon Manor already changed. 

The way Isaac told his story to them, the Argents had caused all manor of trouble in their last town and they’d been the cause of Isaac’s moon curse.

In hushed whispers, when Isaac had finally began to trust them, he’d started telling Stiles and Scott all about the Argents, how they hunted down creatures of the night, ‘cleansing’ the earth of impure beasts. 

Beasts like sweet Scott and tender hearted Isaac. 

Isaac told them why they’d had to move from their last town, because the Argents had hatched a horrid plan, one that had gone horribly awry.

Isaac had become extraordinarily good at overhearing conversations between Gerard and Kate over time, even back when he was nothing more than a human hand servant to Gerard.

There were benefits to how the Argents barely noticed him, even when he was in a room with them. He was as good as invisible to them most of the time.

Isaac’s sad story was one that had made Stiles shed a tear as he replayed it to them. 

Isaac’s father had beaten him so badly as child, he’d been taken away from him by their towns local law keeper, a soft spoken Sheriff with weathered skin and gentle eyes. 

The revered way in which Isaac had described the Sheriff when telling the story means Stiles always pictures the Sheriff as some sort of kind faced hero, riding in on a horse to save the day, with a pistol and a badge.

Isaac had been just ten years of age when he’d been taken from his vicious father. He is the same age as Scott and Stiles and it’s hurts Stiles to imagine that while he and Scott played in the fields, virtually worry free, Issac was going through hell in a different part of the country.

Unfortunately, Isaac had ended up in a boy’s home, until Gerard and Kate had arrived to take him home, with false promises of toys and love.

Isaac’s reality ended up being starkly different to those promises. Isaac had been taken out of the frying pan and tossed straight into the proverbial fire and he’d become basically a slave for the Argents, still just a young boy.

Christopher Argent was not unkind to Isaac, but Isaac is still very wary of him, not trusting him. 

It’s as if Isaac still harbours some hatred toward him, for not realising that his sister and father were mistreating him.

That part always makes Stiles remembers a quote he’d read in a book, on one of his many escapades of sneaking into the library late at night.

The only thing necessary for evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing.

It is a quote to live by and it is why Stiles vows _never_ to be a man who does nothing.

Young Lady Allison was the only one who had snuck Isaac food or patched up his cuts and bruises, when Gerard and Kate had beaten him for the smallest indiscretions.

Isaac tells Scott and Stiles he will forever be grateful for her kindness and her gentle heart. She’d been Isaac’s very own beacon of hope as a child, although she’d been nothing more than a child herself at the time.

Gerard and Kate had perceived Isaac as weak willed and broken from the minute they’d met him, therefore they didn’t ever feel the need to ever conceal their horrifying plans from him.

After many years with them, Isaac had overheard an unfortunate conversation where he learned that Lady Katherine intended to burn the home of a local werewolf family, human children included. 

Werewolves were not unheard of in these parts, however they tended to keep to themselves mostly, living in small packs.

Stiles was aware there were hunters in the world, hence why they all kept Scott’s secret, as he had no other wolves around to protect him when they were younger, no wolf pack of his own. Until Isaac came along.

Isaac had told them that Kate had worked hard to seduce the packs eldest son, to earn his trust. Isaac said he was aware the boy in question had been just shy of his eighteenth birthday at the time and unseasoned to the ways of women. Especially unseasoned to the ways of a women like Katherine Argent.

Isaac was good in his very core and he had snuck out late one night, to try to warn the family of what Kate’s intentions truly were. Isaac’s timing had been unfortunate, because the night in question had been a full moon.

Unfortunately, Isaac had been intercepted by a member of the werewolf family, infuriated to find a trespasser on their home grounds. 

The wolf that caught him had seen Isaac with the Argents around their town and they suspected Isaac to be part of the hunter’s family, especially considering he was human.

The wolf had been half right in his knowledge that Isaac was associated with the Argents, except Issac was there to warn them only. 

The wolf who had intercepted him wouldn’t hear his pleas.

The wolf was mistrustful of strangers and Isaac carried the scent of hunters and Isaac remembers that the man had kept shifting, barely in control with the moon high above his head.

The wolf made a grave mistake that night because Isaac wasn’t the threat.

The threat was headed their way in the form of eight explosive barrels, filled with wolfsbane and gunpowder strapped to a cart, Kate laughing madly at the reins.

The wolf, ‘Peter’, Isaac had called him, had bitten Isaac before he could so much as reach the werewolf family’s house, dismissing his warnings and leaving him for dead and bleeding in the woods.

Isaac had literally dragged himself all the way to the house lawns on his stomach, dying slowly, body giving up on him.

It had taken him many painful hours, but Isaac had been too late.

Isaac witnessed the werewolves house go in up flames; he recalls seeing a distraught, young, dark haired boy, clutching a smaller girl with similar looks on their front lawns. Many, many unmoving and charred bodies of various sizes had surrounded them. 

Isaac had passed out riddled with fever and pain to the sound of broken animalistic howls, filling the night sky that tragic night. When he had awoken the next morning laying covered in mud and leaves amongst the trees, he just knew something was amiss with him.

His hearing had been heightened, vision sharper and he’d just known he’d been turned, as he explains it. 

He’d then managed to conceal his change from the Argents, by some small miracle. He just simply went back to them, with no where else to go.

Gerard Argent hadn’t even noticed he’d been missing and had just instructed him to get on with making breakfast.

So Isaac had, and that was pretty much the tale of his werewolf origins.

As soon as Isaac and Scott had met each other, they’d scented each other and they’d known they were alike. Neither had met another wolf in person aside from the ones that had bit them.

Isaac had felt compelled to warn Scott about the Argents too, save Scott trust in them and find himself in line to become another trophy for them.

Isaac still has night terrors about his past occasionally. Stiles isn’t surprised knowing what the poor boy has already been through in his short life so far.

Now, four years on from the atrocity that Isaac had lived to witness, Stiles finishes his plate of cookies and he tucks himself down to sleep, pulling his threadbare sheet over his legs.

He folds his hands on his stomach and stares up at the yellowing, cracked ceiling, his mind working relentlessly as he thinks about what he must do.

He has a busy few days ahead, to make his own plans for the Hale house masked ball.

It is assumed usually only nobles will attend, but Stiles is feeling an inclination to break some rules.

The Hales have not held their countrywide famous ball for the past four years previous and after bearing witness to Isaac’s stories, Stiles now knows exactly why that is. 

The Hales had been rebuilding after the Argents attacked them, they were the werewolf family of Isaac’s tales.

Kate and Gerard had attacked their home and murdered most of their family.

A household invite to the Hale House masked ball had arrived by messenger a week previous, addressed to the Martins _not_ the Argents. Gerard had quickly squirrelled away the invitation, away from Allison and Christopher’s eyes.

The Hales obviously also hadn’t received news that the Martins had moved on from Beacon Manor, hence the invite being addressed incorrectly.

The Hales also clearly didn’t know that the Argents were now living less than a few hours ride away from them. They did not know that their very dangerous enemy was as close as just a town away.

Gerard and Kate had barely been able to contain their glee upon receiving the invite before heading out of the dining room arm in arm and Stiles had been helpless but to follow them.

Stiles’ intrigue had piqued at what had caused them to break from their usual sneers and grimaces, at what possibly could have gotten them so animated. He’d wanted to know what was in that envelope.

Stiles had snuck into the crawl space near Gerard's office after them, listening and hoping to overhear their conversation.

“An invite to the Hale House masked ball! Imagine...There’s two of them left Father! I thought we’d got them all but this invite says their names at the bottom, Derek and Cora. Just two Hale wolves left, can you imagine. The boy survived then... I’m not surprised, he was a feisty little thing. Along with the younger sister. They didn’t even really know it was us that set the explosives that caused the fire Father, I mean I think they suspected but we can finish them off now. A whole werewolf bloodline driven to extinction by us, how exciting to add to the Argent memoirs,” Kate had been all venomous excitement.

Stiles had shivered at her tone and his poor heart had ached for the Hale families loss, even though he did not know them personally.

No, he didn’t know them personally, but what he did know intimately was being a victim of prejudice and cruelty, bestowed upon you by those who thought they were better than you, just because of the status you were born into.

Stiles had felt a burning need to protect these remaining two Hales at all costs. His need to defend had burned through him like a righteous fury, his blood boiling and too hot under his skin.

“Daughter, you and I shall attend the ball,” Gerard had coughed and Kate had brought him some pills from nearby and handed him a glass of water, “But there will be a lot of people there that may recognise us there, we will have to keep a very low profile. In and out. I fear that the Sheriff of Beacon Valley suspected us last time, that’s why I saw fit to move a little further into the outskirts of the land.”

Gerard had always seemed more cautious than his daughter and he’d coughed once again into his handkerchief. Kate had laid a land on her father’s shoulder.

“It’s a _masked ball_ Father, it’s perfect! I’m thinking of something like wolfsbane poisoning in their drinks, something nice and subtle this time. It’s so elusive they won’t even know we were there!” Kate had hugged her father and Stiles had to physically bite his hand to stop from cursing her out loud.

“Ok, my darling daughter. Whatever makes you happy. Let us keep this our little secret though hmm, you know Christopher and Allison don’t quite have the stomach for the more gruesome parts of our calling. We shall tell them we are going on a father- daughter hunting trip, to seek out some deer. Let them still sleep soundly at night in their beds thinking we follow the hunter’s code shall we?” Gerard had poured, then raised a glass of bourbon in Kate’s direction and then they’d toasted their murderous plans together.

Toasted to their plan of killing even more innocent people.

The worst part to Stiles was, that the remaining Hales didn’t know they’d just invited the Argents into their home and practically handed them a guise they could hide behind, which they would use to finish them off.

Stiles has never been quite as naive as Scott and Melissa. 

If they all run away from here in search of a new home, like Melissa is planning in two weeks time, the Argents will hunt them down for their disobedience.

They won’t let them go easily, they’ll take it as a personal insult. 

Kate and Gerard will come after them and that simply won’t do. 

Stiles wasn’t born to live his life in fear and he doesn’t intend to live it that way for much longer than he already has.

The past four years have been like a living nightmare, only made bearable by Melissa, Scott and Isaac’s company.

So Stiles has hatched a devious plan of his own. 

He will attend the Hale ball himself, in disguise. 

He will warn the remaining Hales of the Argent’s horrendous intentions and hopefully, he will make an ally out of the wolves. If they don’t rip him apart first, that is.

He will offer his dangerous information for their protection.

Because as scary as Kate and Gerard Argent are, he will bet his life that a noble bloodline family of werewolves, even if there are just two of them left, will be even scarier.

Stiles has read many tomes leftover in the Martin’s library, sneaking in late at night, with his lock-pick and candle in hand.

He’s also temporarily misappropriated a few of Gerard’s private books, including a thick work entitled “the bestiary”. 

Stiles knows from his reading that born werewolves are very dangerous and unpredictable beasts, evidenced further by Peter’s treatment of Isaac, when he’d attempted to help them the first time round.

Stiles is wisely cautious of them, but he’s been literally raised with wolves. 

He sleeps in the same room as two of them every night. 

He’s more afraid of what the Argents will do if they find out that Scott and Isaac are werewolves, than he is of walking into the home of the Hales.

Stiles tries to fall asleep that night under his threadbare covers, with Scott snoring softly in the background and Isaac whimpering in his sleep, legs twitching.

He knows what he must do.

The taste from the cookies lingers, sugary and sweet on his lips and the blazing heat of injustice thunders and roils through his veins, keeping him awake.

—————

Stiles had been just a mere child when his birth mother Claudia Stillinski had died suddenly, struck down with a mystery brain illness.

Stiles’ father, a man that Melissa has only ever referred to as John, overcome with crushing grief, had just simply disappeared on Stiles one day. 

Stiles has faint memories of being left on the doorstep of the McCall’s humble cottage, with his bags clutches tightly in his small hands, his father kissing his forehead and wiping at the tears on his face.

John had left no notice of where he was headed and neither Stiles nor Melissa had heard a single word from him since.

Mellisa had taken Stiles in as one of her own without question and she had raised him alongside Scott, as she’d known his parents very well. John had worked hard as a labourer alongside Scott’s father Raphael, until he’d stopped going to work, his grief at losing his wife changing him.

Scott’s own father had remained in their lives for a little while longer than Stiles’ father had, right up until Melissa had asked him to leave them too. 

Raphael McCall had been a heavy drinker, something that got worse with the growing strain of supporting his young family and the addition of Stiles to their household brought out the absolute worst in the man’s character. 

The final straw for Melissa had been when her husband had come home after work one evening, once again heavily intoxicated and he’d accidentally knocked Scott down, banging the boys head on a table corner.

Melissa had baked a huge lemon cake for them that day when Raphael had left without so much as a backwards glance and they’d eaten the entire thing, Melissa sitting with Stiles and Scott tucked under each arm as she sobbed quietly, sitting out on the front porch of their humble rented cottage.

Melissa had then taken a job soon afterwards as a housemaid for the Martins and they allowed her to work hours that suited her. She needed to be at home for Scott and Stiles, and for a time, it worked just fine, even if she had to walk nearly an hour each way to spend her days at Beacon Manor. 

Stiles remembers she always looked completely exhausted and even as a young child, he’d worry about her. But she never complained.

It had felt better for a little while after Raphael had left, Stiles recalls. Melissa had seemed happier, despite her blatant exhaustion. Soon however, their debts had mounted up and Stiles and Scott had been too young to begin working.

The Martins had quickly offered Melissa a job as a live in house manager, when they’d found out she was struggling to meet the demands of her rental agreement on the cottage and also raise the two boys on her salary as their maid; they’d been the ones who had insisted on the live in arrangements, when Melissa had been forced to give up the cottage. The Martins has ensured the kitchen living quarters were installed properly with a set of bedrooms, to accommodate Melissa and her two boys comfortably.

They’d even bought Stiles and Scott some wooden bunks to sleep in, something they boys had always wanted.

The Martins had been a kind family, generous and thoughtful.

They had a child of their own who was Stiles and Scott’s age, Miss Lydia Martin. 

Lydia had been aloof, but never entitled and she’d kept the two boys in check with her sharp tongue. 

The girl had long strawberry blond curls and bright green eyes. Stiles had idolised Lydia since he was a young boy, following her absolutely everywhere, but she’d never have looked twice at him in that way, not in a romantic sense anyway.

They’d instead become fast friends, Lydia realising that Stiles was smart as a whip, easily matching her own intellect. She spent her time teaching him to read and including both he and Scott in her tea parties and dressing up games.

Lydia chose to take a courtship with Jackson Whittemore, a local boy from a very wealthy and noble family from Beacon Valley when she’d turned sixteen. That was when Lydia had started to drift away from Stiles and Scott.

Not long after that was the last Stiles had seen of her, before her parents had moved away, taking her with them. 

Stiles had later found out from one of the men that brought their milk, that Jackson had followed her across the country when her parents had moved, and they were set to be married.

Lydia wrote to him occasionally when she first left, but Stiles has received only one letter from her since the Argents took their residence and he hadn’t managed to hold on to it long enough to reply, as it had gone missing from his room.

Stiles likes to indulge in the idea that Lydia still writes to him, but he suspects the Argents burn all of his letters.

The Martins had asked Melissa to come with them on their new venture, but Melissa had refused their generous offer.

This was her home and they had a good life at Beacon Manor, with many fond memories echoing in the hallways.

Stiles remembers that Lydia’s parents had been very indulgent with Lydia as a child and they’d encouraged group play between all of the children, especially when they were younger and they had let he and Scott practically have their run of the house.

This had resulted in Stiles and Scott exploring every secret corner, every nook, every cranny of Beacon Manor. 

Stiles knows the house like he knows the back of his hand and he’d never felt like a servant when the Martins lived there, it felt like his home.

Sure, he and Scott helped with the horses, cleaning tasks and chores as they’d gotten older, but you’d as likely see Lady Natalie Martin herself cooking side by side with Melissa, as you would see her waiting at her dining table waiting to be served.

Stiles’ intimate knowledge of the Manor turned out to be very helpful indeed when the Argents moved in and it quickly became apparent that they weren’t going to tolerate two unruly teenage boys running around their new house, as if they they owned the place. 

The Argents with their noble blood, firmly believed that the help was the help and so they treated Melissa, Scott and Stiles accordingly.

They thought themselves far superior to their servants and Stiles supposes they were right in their thinking really. 

It had proved for a cold hard shock for Stiles when the Argents asserted their rule. Stiles hadn’t quite realised how lucky they’d actually been with the Martins, he’d been living with a very sheltered view of the class system.

How the Argents felt about keeping a hierarchy in their home was very apparent in the way they treated the only servant of their own that they’d brought with them, poor Isaac.

Stiles had first set eyes on the tall thin boy the day the Argents arrived and he will remember the moment until his dying day.

Scott and Stiles had lined up at the front of the Manor, freshly bathed, hair slicked down by Melissa, to greet the new owners. Stiles had known in his very bones there was going to be a problem the moment he saw Isaac Lahey for the very first time.

The boy had been thin and pale and a yellow bruise had been visible, high up on his sharp cheekbones. But Isaac’s physical appearance, startling as it had been, wasn’t what had truly alerted Stiles to the potential horrors that lay ahead.

It was the way the boy had held himself, as if he were a doll that was broken, a plaything that had had its arms popped off at the socket one too many times; his very manner screamed abuse, his shoulders hunched, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Scott hadn’t even noticed Isaac straight away, for he had fixed his eyes on the fair Lady Allison approaching, seemingly mesmerised by her, as she whispered quietly to her horse to calm it.

She’d caught Scott looking and she’d smiled shyly at him, tucking her long, dark hair behind her ear.

Sixteen year old Scott had crafted the Argents a ‘welcome’ banner with some charcoal and an old sheet that the Martins had left behind; it had taken him nearly all night the evening before and he’d checked every word carefully with Stiles, to ensure he’d spelt the words correctly. 

Scott had been so proud of that god forsaken banner.

Stiles will remember for forever and a day the way that Gerard Argent had slyly assessed their little welcome party, their hopeful faces lined up on the front lawn and how he’d laughed cruelly when he’d clapped eyes on Scott’s sheet, flapping gently in the wind as he and Stiles had held it aloft.

“How very... tasteless...” Gerard had sneered down as he passed Scott by, riding on his horse, “burn that sheet immediately boy, the neighbours will think we have no class.”

Scott’s crestfallen face still haunts Stiles. 

“Stiles remembers how he’d glared up at the old man’s cruel words and when Stiles refused to look away, Gerard had eyed him interestedly. He’d then whispered something to Lady Katherine as she had approached on her own horse.

Kate had nodded toward Stiles, agreeing with whatever her father had said and she’d thrown her long spindly neck back and laughed wickedly.

“Yes father, you can leave that one to me,” Kate had said loudly, “I’ll make sure we break him in _thoroughly_.“

And Stiles’ life had begun hurtling downhill at a frightening pace from that moment until the present.

Stiles’ quick mouth and sharp wit had gotten him into trouble time and time again with Lady Katherine and her father.

Christopher and Allison kept mostly to themselves, so Stiles didn’t have many issues with them specifically but the family social order was very apparent.

What Gerard and Kate said was law to the family, in the Manor and everywhere else. They held the control.

The fire in Stiles’ belly grew every time he saw Gerard or Kate belittle Scott or Isaac in front of him. 

__It had come to an ugly head a few weeks previous, back before the pantry incident, when Stiles had found Kate screaming loudly right in Scott’s face. According to her hellish screeching, he had missed out the scrubbing of a single tile of the kitchen floor, while completing his cleaning duties._ _

__Gentle and kind Scott’s body had been shaking in the face of Kate’s unbridled fury, faced with her sharp, scolding tongue._ _

__All over a single floor tile._ _

__Stiles knows Kate had been looking for an excuse to get to Scott now for months, one that Melissa couldn’t argue with but Scott barely put a toe out of line and so it was difficult for Kate to find reasons to punish him._ _

__Stiles also knows that Kate had begun to suspect there was a connection between Scott and Allison, Scott’s less than subtle attempts at catching Allison’s attention alerting her to the growing affection between them._ _

__Thank the gods she didn’t know the pair had been secretly meeting for nearly four whole years already, hopelessly in love since they’d first laid eyes on each other._ _

__Kate had made it her personal mission lately to torture poor Scott as much as possible._ _

__When Stiles had watched her grab Scott’s arm, he knew he couldn’t stand by a moment longer, the woman’s temper was getting worse and worse._ _

__With a note of distress he’d realised that Melissa had not long left for the morning market with Christopher and Allison and they likely wouldn’t be back for hours._ _

__Stiles had made his decision._ _

__“It was me,” Stiles had announced casually approaching them, putting his body between Kate and his best friends, thus forcing Kate to release her grip on Scott’s arm._ _

__Scott had rubbed at his injured skin and Stiles had torn his eyes away from the marks that Kate had left on him, knowing they’d heal soon anyway._ _

But it didn’t matter how quickly Scott healed, it still wasn’t acceptable for Kate to treat him, to treat _any_ of them that way.

__“What did you just say to me boy?” Kate had sneered at Stiles._ _

“I said it was _me_. I was on kitchen cleaning duties and I handed my responsibility over to poor Scott here so I could sit out and lay in the sun for awhile,” Stiles shrugged, “I’d already scrubbed the floors though. Scott was just attempting to go over my shoddy work, in a feeble attempt to save my bacon. The floor is clearly not cleaned to your standard my Lady, but that fault lies with me and only me.”

__“No, that’s not true!” Scott, bless his heart, had protested and poked his head around Stiles’ arm to face Kate._ _

__Kate had looked disgustedly between the boys._ _

“Well isn’t this a fine dilemma? If it _was_ Scott, I suggest you admit it, as he will get away with a night without dinner for punishment, seeing as my niece looks so favourably upon him,” Kate says shrewdly.

__Stiles doesn’t believe for one second that Scott will be allowed to escape as easily as that, with just a night without dinner for punishment._ _

“But _you_ boy... you’re a liar and you’ve shirked your chores, from what you’re telling me. And nobody, I mean _nobody_ looks favourably upon _you._ So for your lies and your sheer idleness, it will be a whipping with my riding crop followed by two nights of isolation in the cold box in the cellar,” Kate had whispered threateningly, daring him to continue with his facade.

__Stiles mind had wandered, fear coursing through him at Kate’s words._ _

__The cellar cold box is where Gerard and Kate preferred to send Isaac to punish him. It has no light and not enough air, used to house meats to make them last longer in the summer months. It’s usually filled with frozen ice they collect from the lakeside in the mornings and they must replenish it daily, save it melts._ _

__Stiles has never been in the box himself._ _

__Stiles has personally seen the scratch marks on the inside of the lid from when he sneaks down to let Isaac out at night though._ _

__Thankfully as Kate’s attentions have become more divided between Isaac, Scott and Stiles, Isaac spends barely any time in the box at all anymore._ _

Only when Kate is feeling especially cruel.

Isaac had stared up at Stiles in disbelief the first time Stiles had gone to rescue him. Stiles had held up his lock-pick and a thin knife, a triumphant grin on his face as he’d offered Isaac a hand out of the box. 

They’d sat side by side in the dark, in companionable silence, sharing some water and biscuits that Melissa had given to Stiles to take with him to Isaac.

Stiles had locked Isaac back in as the sun had risen and Isaac had hugged him, thanking him. 

Stiles had let himself out of the cellar just seconds before Kate had gone in to let Isaac out and Stiles remembers being very proud of himself that Isaac had ended up spending mere minutes in the box that night.

That had been the beginning of an unbreakable bond between the three boys and Stiles had seen Isaac grow more confident over the past four years and he’s even filled out a little due to Melissa’s home cooking.

And now Kate had wanted to serve the same punishment to Stiles, possibly even to Scott also, for the kitchen tile cleaning fiasco.

Stiles had felt Scott shiver behind him at Kate’s threats, the movement bringing him back to the situation at hand.

Scott has always hated the dark, he’s deathly afraid of it. Stiles suspects it’s because he’d been bitten when he’d been out late at night in the woods alone and he’d had to find his way back to the house, wounded and injured in the darkness. He’d been completely terrified. It was only that Stiles had caught a winter cold and he had been too unwell to go with him, that had saved him from the same fate. Poor Scott had only been trying to collect some wildflowers to give to Melissa on her birthday the next morning and now he will pay for that night for the rest of his life.

Stiles had felt chilled to his bones that if for whatever reason, Kate managed to really hurt Scott, she might see Scott heal himself, and that was just not an acceptable outcome.

For Kate to find out that Scott is a werewolf would be handing all of them their death sentences. 

Stiles had resolutely looked Kate in the eye, standing there in the kitchen. 

He had needed to give her a real reason to punish him instead of Scott, to draw her anger.

“Two whole nights in the box for my lies and my idleness? Tell me then _Katie dearest_ , and what would you give me for the fact that I licked your personal silver spoon before stirring your mid morning tea today?” Stiles had said to her, gritting his jaw, feeling Scott stiffen in disbelief at his back.

Stiles had felt her palm strike his face and it had rattled his teeth, but he had remained standing.

__He hadn’t fought it when Kate had dragged him to the cellar. He didn’t so much as groan as she had struck him stomach before forcing him by the neck into the cold box._ _

__He’d just been glad that she’d been so incensed that she’d forgotten her whip._ _

__Stiles hadn’t made a single sound._ _

__Scott’s soft sobs as Kate had dragged him away from him had been enough noise for the both of them._ _

__—————_ _

__Stiles manages to make it the day of the ball without crossing paths again with Kate._ _

__Since she’d caught him at the pantry, he knows he can’t risk drawing her anger. He’d been lucky Melissa had come to his rescue._ _

__In the worst instance, there would be a repeat of Kate exacting punishment like she did when he’d deliberately angered her over the cleaning._ _

__She might lock him away in the cold box until she comes back from the Hale House masked ball and then all will be truly lost. Unfortunately, neither Isaac nor Scott are as adept as he with a lock-pick._ _

__Melissa keeps him busy enough anyway, sewing complicated patterns of lace into the elaborate masks._ _

__Stiles squirrels away enough spare material to make another and he works by candlelight after Isaac and Scott are snoring to fashion his own mask, paying more attention to the detail than with the others._ _

__He’s never worn something so grand before, never had access to such beautiful material and he intends for it to be the finest mask at the ball._ _

__The afternoon comes around as Gerard and Kate prepare to leave and Stiles watches them pack up their horse’s saddlebags with pistols and wolfsbane._ _

__Gerard has tactically sent Allison and Christopher into town to buy some paintings for the house, a fools errand that Stiles knows Gerard has created to cover up the fact that he and Kate are quite obviously not getting ready to go deer hunting._ _

__Stiles sees Kate tuck a vial of yellow liquid into a pocket on her horse’s saddle for safe keeping and he knows it’s the poison she’s intending to use on the Hale children._ _

Stiles is supposed to pack their masks into their bags, ready for them to put on when they arrive at the ball. He informs Kate he has done so, fiddling with the saddle bags. He would like to swipe the vial of poison, but Kate will surely check for it before she leaves. He heads out the back of Beacon Manor and he throws their masks right into the running brook along with the vial, and he watches his hard work float away. 

He can at least try to give the Hales a minimal advantage. They may just recognise the Argents if they have to enter the ball without a disguise.

Stiles sneaks away to put his finishing touches on his own mask.

Scott and Isaac are busy assisting Gerard in dressing and Melissa is attending to Kate and putting her into a gown, leaving Stiles free to get himself ready in peace. 

__He intends to leave a note for Melissa, knowing she will try to stop him if he alerts her to his plans._ _

__He makes his mask larger than is probably considered traditional, covering most of his forehead and stretching down to his nostrils, rather than just encircling his eyes; it won’t do for the Argents to spot him or recognise him if they do cross paths at the Hale House._ _

__The larger mask also gives him more space to get very creative with his designs and he weaves intricate gold webbing onto a maroon and black base, working quickly. He will need to leave soon, to ensure he gets out ahead of Gerard and Kate._ _

__By the time he’s done, he barely recognises himself in the mirror when he tries his mask on for size._ _

__His unruly brown hair pokes up above the top of it, still a little damp and his pink lips compliment the reddish colours in the mask._ _

__When he had snuck down to the brook earlier, he had taken a bar of soap and indulged in a good scrub down and he’s feeling like a new man, skin tingling and clean all over._ _

__He’d shaved off his scruff and it makes his face look younger, smoother._ _

__On a whim, he smudges a little coal from the fireplace along his lashes, copying something he saw Allison try once and he’s pleased with the dark effect it gives his brown eyes, making them look even deeper._ _

__No one would know it were him behind the mask, aside from his scruffy clothes._ _

__Just as he’s doubting his mask will be enough and he’s plucking at his tatty clothing, Melissa comes into his room and she shuts the door behind her._ _

__“Erm...” Stiles says intelligently, caught in the act._ _

__“Oh hush. Did you think I didn’t see you stealing away scraps of fabric,” Melissa tuts and she puts down the bundle she’s holding._ _

__“I’m... I’m just...” Stiles mumbles, pulling his mask off._ _

__“I know what you’re doing. Isaac told me about the Hales. He also told me you were dreaming last night and you were extremely vocal about wanting to warn them. I can guess what you’re doing. I’m very proud of you Stiles. I’m terrified for you, but so unbelievably proud,” Melissa hugs him._ _

__“Thank you,” Stiles whispers quietly, “I wish my bravery were just for them, but I’m doing it for us too.”_ _

__“I know my love. Now... look. I’ve brought you something,” Melissa let’s him go and wipes at her face._ _

__She unravels the bundle from the bed and Stiles sees it’s a pair of new black dress pants, some smart looking black boots and the most beautiful deep red overcoat Stiles has ever seen._ _

__It’s been sewn with large gold buttons and velvet black panels. Stiles doesn’t even think that the Argents would own something this grand._ _

__He runs his fingers over the delicate material, mouth open in awe._ _

__Melissa holds it out to him and he shrugs off his worn shirt and trousers, toeing off his shoes._ _

__He keeps on his black undershirt and underwear as they were new on today, after his river wash down._ _

__Melissa helps him dress, holding out the overcoat out for him last._ _

__He threads his arms into the sleeves and it fits to his body like it was made for him, hugging his strong shoulders and tapering in at his trim waist._ _

__“Oh my...” Melissa says, stepping back and instructing him to look at himself in the mirror._ _

__“Wow. This is so beautiful Melissa. Where did you get it?” Stiles asks in an awed whisper, unable to take his eyes off himself in the mirror._ _

__He turns to look at the back of him, coat tails ending at his knees._ _

__“It was your father’s wedding day outfit,” Melissa says quietly, “I took it from the house when he left. I thought you might like to wear it one day...”_ _

__“What?! Well then no. No. I’m not wearing it,” Stiles begins to shrug off the coat in anger but Melissa stills him with a hand._ _

__“Stiles. I know you won’t ever let me talk about him but I think it’s about time you listen. We have a few moments before you’ll have to set off, to get ahead of the Argents on the road. I think it’s time you knew a little more about your father. He’s not quite the villain I suspect you’re imagining him to be,” Melissa sits down on Isaac’s bed and she pats the space next to her until Stiles relents and sits down heavily next to her._ _

__“He left me. He didn’t want me Mel. What more is there to know?” Stiles sighs._ _

“Stiles. Enough. Listen for once. I know it hurts, but sometimes the truth does. John loved you and your mother greatly. When she passed, so unexpectedly like she did, something inside him broke. I’ve never seen grief grip someone like it. He’d been so kind to me when Scott’s father was drinking, ensuring we had enough food and money. He’s half the reason we were able to continue the rent on the cottage for as long as we did. I tried to repay the favour when he needed someone. But it’s like he couldn’t bear to even exist anymore, when Claudia was gone. You were so very young and on the day he left, you’d been nagging him to play horses with you, just like you’d always done as a toddler. He snapped at you and you ran over to my house crying your eyes out and you wouldn’t go back to him, you kept saying he had scared you and you wanted your mother. He looked so crushed that day when he arrived to fetch you. You did go home with him eventually, after much coaxing on my part, but he brought you back an hour later, your bags in your hand. In the letter he left me, he explained how he didn’t want to cause you any more pain and he thought you’d be better off with me. I haven’t found a safe way to get word to him about our current situation as the Argents are monitoring the post, but when we leave, I can help you look for him, if you’d like. When it’s safe. I’m not really sure where he is, but I’ve heard some things. I bet he’d be glad to hear from you...” Melissa tells him.

__“He hasn’t even tried to find me, why would I bother?” Stiles’ hurt manifests as an ugly anger._ _

__“I can’t answer that Stiles, but I do think he intended to come back one day. I stand by my words, John was a good man. I think you’d be surprised if you reached out to him, to try to look for him. I wouldn’t know where to start, but I have some ally’s in the town that I knew he was situated in last, that might be able to help us,” Melissa squeezes his arm._ _

“Look. If we make it through all of this in one piece, _all of us_ , I promise I’ll think about trying to find him,” Stiles offers quietly.

__It’s the best he can do at this moment._ _

__“Don’t do it for me sweetheart,” Melissa shrugs, “do it for yourself.”_ _

__Stiles scoffs at that ridiculous notion._ _

__He can’t recall the last time he ever did anything for himself._ _

__——————_ _

__Stiles leaves Beacon Manor on foot after Melissa promises to keep Isaac and Scott from following him. He sets out over the back fields, so as to avoid the roads where the Argents horses will take them to the Ball._ _

__Melissa gives him a small map that she had drawn from memory, a trip taken to Beacon Valley in her youth and Stiles checks it repeatedly for landmarks, to ensure his course remains true._ _

__He’s lucky it’s pretty much a straight line across to Beacon Valley. He has to dodge out of the path of a few cows on his way, but he’s glad when he doesn’t come up against any significant obstacles._ _

__He’s been walking for around two hours, his feet just starting to hurt and just when he’s giving up hope of finding the place at all, he sees it._ _

__The sun is just setting on the tree tops as he clears the wood line, to reveal a beautiful sprawling house with neat grounds surrounding it. “House” doesn’t quite do it justice, it’s more like a small mansion._ _

__He’d been expecting something more modest and by the looks of the land space, a much smaller house should have actually stood here but as Stiles gets closer, he knows this is quite newly built._ _

__He can see the join where the old house meets the newer build and the stark visual of the worn building flowing into the new building should be crude, but it somehow works._ _

__It’s bizarre to look at and quite beautiful._ _

__Heavy, old dark wood meets new bright white bricks and beams, and it should be a total mess, but on the contrary; it’s unique and striking._ _

__It’s alive almost, Stiles suspects there is a story hidden within each pillar and panel._ _

__It takes Stiles’ breath. He has never seen a building with so much _character_._ _

__Stiles straightens his coat and he steels his nerves, ready to make the approach toward the open doors, music playing softly in the background, beckoning him inside. He straightens his mask and rolls his shoulders._ _

__“Do you not like the design of the house?” A low and pleasant voice in his ear startles him and he jumps and turns about._ _

__“For the love of all that is holy, fuck it and horse shit,” Stiles curses loudly, clutching his hand to his chest._ _

__The face belonging to the voice goes lax in surprise, eyes widening comically. The figure is not wearing a mask, Stiles notices._ _

The person accosting Stiles obviously wasn’t expecting to find this well dressed person to be cursing on the front lawns of such a grand house.

It’s very improper of him.

The eyebrow’s of the man in question are thick and dark and they raise high on his head, as if asking Stiles a silent question.

_Who on earth are you?_

Stiles takes in the man in front of him, eyes raking over him indecently as the man’s frowns get deeper by the second under the scrutiny.

He matches Stiles in height, although his shoulders are slightly broader.

He’s wearing a night black overcoat, which matches his jet black hair and it’s fitted as snugly as Stiles’ own is.

The stranger’s coat is adorned with subtle silver swirls and buttons.

__The man’s wearing a pale silver waistcoat underneath and boots that hit his knees, to finish his clothing._ _

__Stiles’ eyes linger for a moment on what appear to be strong, muscled thighs._ _

__When Stiles finally remembers his manners and he manages to drag his eyes back to the man’s face, Stiles notes he has dark stubble that suggests he was unbothered to shave today and his eyes... well, the eyes._ _

Stiles gets stuck on the man’s eyes; they are the strangest pale mix of grey, blue and hazel, the lights from the house making the silvers in his waistcoat coat reflect off them, colours dancing. 

They are almost glowing. His eyes are positively wild. 

The stranger’s intense gaze reminds Stiles of a thunder storm he’d once watched from the window of the kitchen at Beacon Manor, a myriad of shades bouncing in the sky, electric. 

Stiles is as fasciated now as he was then. He wouldn’t be able to look away if you gave him twenty gold bars to do so. 

Stiles notices, though the man is not wearing it, a silver and black mask is clutched in his broad hand. 

Stiles licks his lips involuntarily and he touches his own fingers to his cheeks to ensure his own mask is still in place. The stranger tracks the movement, gaze following Stiles’ fingers, before seeming to catch himself.

__

__

__“I apologise for my crude language My Lord,” Stiles offers and bows a little. He has no idea what the proper etiquette is here, he’s just chancing his luck and guesses the man’s title, “Stiles... at your service...”_ _

__He just about catches himself before he offers his real last name, reminding himself to reserve as many personal details about himself as possible._ _

__The man’s lips pull up ever so slightly and if Stiles didn’t suspect the man has a predisposition to looking murderous, he’d swear it was in amusement._ _

__“Stiles? Is that an illness? Did you just sneeze? I think I heard some men down on the docks collapsed with a bout of that last week...” The man quips quickly, eyebrows quirking again._ _

__He does bow a little, greeting Stiles in return, small smile now definitely playing on his lips._ _

__“Ah, you have heard of me then good Sir. Like all good rumours, the men collapsing on the docks with my name on their lips, I’m afraid it may be steeped in truth. But I can assure you, any fainting done by men or women alike, it will have been more of a swoon. I imagine they were probably dazzled by my charm,” Stiles grins, engaging with the stranger without hesitation._ _

__The man honest to god chuckles and it lights up his face, making him look younger than Stiles suspects he is._ _

__He can be no more than twenty two years of age._ _

__Stiles vows to try to get him to laugh again, at his nearest opportunity._ _

__“Well, I’ll have to take your word for it, unless you wish to show me evidence of said charm... all I’ve seen from you so far is that you have a mouth that would put a sailor to shame with your cursing. So Stiles... That’s your actual name then?” The man asks and Stiles thinks he might still be joking, but he has a very serious face so it’s hard to decipher._ _

__“Ah alas. No. My mother cruelly named me something atrocious after my great grandfather. Stiles is a nickname. And as for the crude language, you startled me, you can only blame yourself. Also, well... I get nervous and I don’t do well in formal settings, so if my lack of charm bothers you, I must bid you good evening sir and I would strongly suggest you carry on your evening somewhere that I am not,” Stiles smiles shyly, wanting nothing of the sort._ _

__The man takes a step toward him, hands twitching at his sides as if he’s about to reach out and Stiles’ breath catches dangerously in his chest._ _

__Stiles has never felt attraction like this, not once with the stolen kisses he’s shared with boys and girls from around their town. Not even when he was first infatuated with Lydia Martin. Not with anyone._ _

__The man’s body calls to him, the air between them getting less and less, the closer the man gets to him._ _

__Stiles can’t afford a distraction like this, not when he’s here for something so important._ _

__“I very much understand. I don’t really like people or socialising, so I get quite nervous in formal settings too,” the man offers quietly, meeting Stiles’ eyes, “and I don’t think I wish to carry on my evening somewhere you are not... not yet at least.”_ _

__He’s got such an intense stare, Stiles is positively captivated._ _

__“Well, I hate to point out something so obvious but you are attending a large ball... there will be lots of people here for you to dislike being around,” Stiles breathes and he wants nothing more to close the distance between himself and this handsome stranger._ _

“I didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter of attending... I’d also like to point out that _you’re_ at a large ball too, and unlike me, you _do_ have a choice...” The man challenges and his eyes are on Stiles’ mouth.

__It’s horrendously irrational but Stiles has a fleeting thought that he wouldn’t mind arguing and trading quips with this man for the rest of his damned life._ _

__Stiles worries his lower lip between his teeth and he’s pleased to see the man’s sharp intake of breath._ _

__“I didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter either if I’m truthful...” Stiles echoes quietly and the silence stretches out between them but it’s not uncomfortable._ _

__“Ok. So answer my earlier question instead... as I asked you Stiles, does the design not please you?” The man says, voice a little rough now._ _

__Stiles can feel the heat coming from the man, he’s so close to him now._ _

__“What?” Stiles knows he’s being rude but he can’t seem to form any coherent thoughts when faced with such beauty._ _

__“The house. You were staring at it, frozen in place. I watched you for long moments. Are you not pleased with the design of it?” The man repeats, sounding slightly amused now._ _

“Oh!” Stiles says and he turns back to face the house, putting his back to the stranger, “No, it’s quite beautiful. I was just thinking about why the owners kept the old building as part of it, it’s very obvious where old meets new. But I suppose... maybe it’s a memory. The house I mean... I’m no architect but the house speaks to me... it speaks to me of grief and loss. Of death but also of rebirth. Of old foundations and new beginnings. It speaks to me of a quiet strength. Of survival...” Stiles trails off softly, feeling an unexplainable pang of loss for the Hales, those who he doesn’t even know personally.

__Stiles hears what sounds like a broken whimper from behind him but before he can turn, he feels a touch on his neck, so feather light he might have imagined it._ _

When he turns back around, the stranger is gone.

—————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for beginning my story with me.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and strap in, because it gets wild from here!
> 
> I shall see you at the end...
> 
> Your support is amazing and your kindness is the best motivator, truly.
> 
> Any ridiculous mistakes or missed tags, please let me know...


	2. Perhaps the greatest risk any of us will ever take, is to be seen as we really are...

—————

Stiles shakes off his encounter with the stranger, left feeling inexplicably bereft and he makes his way to the front of the property, avoiding arriving carriages and horses alike. 

It doesn’t appear to be too crowded as yet, he’s rather early having made good time with his shortcut.

He’s worked out that he has approximately one hour to get inside, find one of the Hales, convince one of the aforementioned Hales to trust him, warn them about the Argent’s hellish murder plot and then take his leave.

Piece of cake.

He’s really relying on his plan to make an ally out of the Hales. Lord knows they’re going to need all the help they can get. 

He’s mentally adds a part to his plan now, where he also must avoid handsome strange men who provide unnecessary distractions for him.

Stiles wanders into a large hall area where a sizeable space has been cleared for dancing and socialising. 

It’s busier in here than outside, around maybe thirty or forty very well dressed people milling around.

A fair haired girl dressed quite oddly in pants and a loose white shirt spots his hesitation in the doorway and she makes her way over to him. 

Stiles imagines her clothing must be some sort of uniform as he’s never seen a girl in trousers before. 

She’s tied a length of black ribbon around her waist and teamed her look with some very high heeled boots. 

Stiles can see a hint of cleavage on her approach and he averts his eyes. 

She looks like some sort of strange mixture between a pirate and a serving wench. 

Women and gentlemen alike tut loudly as the girl strolls confidently past them, but she pays them no mind, tossing her long blond hair back over her shoulder. 

Stiles likes her immediately. 

“You look a little out of place handsome,” the girl stops and stands next to him and she offers him one of the champagne flutes she’s holding. 

“Is it that obvious?” Stiles grimaces taking her offering and sipping at the glass immediately. 

So much for keeping a low profile.

“Only by the pained look on your face. Your sense of dress suggests noble blood, yet you look supremely uncomfortable,” the girl drains her own drink in one gulp and she grins at him.

“Well, excuse my saying so but you don’t look like you fit in so well here either,” Stiles gestures at her attire and he belatedly realises that he’s possibly offending a guest of the Hales.

Not to mention he’s probably offending a lady. He’s hopeless at this.

He clamps his mouth shut so fast his teeth click audibly.

“Ha! You’re not incorrect. I was never one for being trussed up in dresses and pretty bows,” the girl laughs raucously, “besides... you can’t breathe in those damned corsets. It makes fighting extra hard too, I keep getting tangled in the skirts. I’m Erica.”

The girl holds out her hand to him and Stiles looks at it shocked. 

No bowing or curtsying. 

It’s all very... European.

He fights the urge to dip his head and instead he grabs her hand and he pumps it up and down vigorously.

She squeezes his hand a little too hard.

“I’m Stiles,” and damn it, there he goes with his real name again, “Get into many fights then do you Lady Erica?” Stiles asks her when she lets him go.

“You’d be _really_ surprised by my answer to that,” Erica chuckles grabbing a tray of cracker type hors d’oeuvres off an actual waiter as he dances past them, “and it’s just Erica. I’m no lady.”

The waiter looks like he wants to grab the tray back off her but he backs off hastily with a sneer, in the face of Erica’s cheeky grim. 

Stiles would have left the tray with her too.

Erica shoves two crackers in her mouth at once and then she offers the tray to Stiles.

Stiles can feel that there are many eyes on them, but her attitude is so liberating, he follows suit, stuffing his mouth full.

“So what are you doing here then Stiles?” Erica asks after they’ve suitably disgusted everyone in the nearest vicinity.

“Oh. Well. I just thought I’d come and pay my respects to the Hale family. I was very saddened to hear of what happened with the fire,” Stiles says and Erica cocks her head at him, listening for what, he doesn’t know.

The movement reminds him of the way the Martin’s old guard dog Bear used to look at him when Stiles would talk to him. 

Like Bear was trying to figure him out, understand what Stiles was saying.

Erica leans in and yanks his collar to the side, right where he’d thought he’d felt a phantom touch from the stranger on the lawns and she sniffs him.

“What?” Stiles asks her, swallowing nervously under her scrutinising gaze.

He tugs his collar back up and takes a step back from her.

“You’re lying to me. And you smell like... ” Erica starts, face going blank as she cuts herself off mid sentence.

She looks confused.

“I smell like what? I bathed this morning I’ll have you know. Also, I am most certainly not lying,” Stiles balks. 

He thought he’d at least survive five minutes here, but maybe it’s not meant to be.

“Not about the part where you were saddened to hear about the Hale’s misfortune, but you’re lying about why you’re here. You’re not here to pay your respects to the Hales...” Erica tips her glass menacingly toward him and she grabs him by the wrist tightly, “so tell me Stiles... _Why are you here?_ I won’t ask so nicely again...”

“What concern of it is yours?” Stiles says defensively and he instantly regrets it when Erica snarls at him, eyes blazing.

Immediately, as if conjured from thin air, a very handsome and quite large man appears at Erica’s side. 

Although his demeanour seems calm, the man’s body is poised and tight, as if at Erica’s very word he’s ready to pummel Stiles into dust.

Stiles backs up a pace further, shirks his wrist free of Erica’s hold and he holds up his hands in surrender.

“The Hales took me in when I had no one,” Erica’s eyes are narrowed and she speaks very quietly so as not to draw more attention to them.

Stiles swears he sees her eyes flash gold and suddenly the way she holds herself, confident and so very dangerous, makes a lot of sense. 

He doesn’t know how he has not noticed sooner.

Wolf.

“Erica,” The man at her side warns, voice deadly calm.

“I’m fine Boyd. Or I will be when I’ve dealt with this trespasser. I won’t let you cause the Hales any more harm,” Erica points at Stiles’ chest.

“Look. Erica. Boyd is it? I apologise. I... I can’t tell you exactly why I have come, but I need to speak to one, or possibly to both of the Hale siblings. I swear that I’m not here to cause them harm. Quite the opposite actually,” Stiles nods, his eyes wide.

His heartbeat is pounding wildly in his chest and he knows Erica won’t hear a lie in his words this time.

Erica relaxes minutely, eyes bleeding back to brown and Boyd takes his hand off her shoulder. 

Just as Stiles is about to push his luck and ask them to assist him in finding the Hales, a disturbance draws all of their attention.

A man is standing in the middle of the cleared dancing space shouting and arguing with a young brunette girl, who has him gripped tightly by the shoulders. 

The guests standing around are gasping and tutting, pointing, judging. 

Stiles rolls his eyes at them. 

This won’t be the first fight he’s ever witnessed and he’s sure it won’t be the last. These noblemen and women are all so sheltered.

People are moving back to give the arguing duo some space but no-one seems to be inclined to step in and help. 

The brunette girl seems to be fighting her own corner efficiently, regardless.

Her dark hair whips back and forth as she moves gracefully out of the other man’s way. 

He’s lashing out, trying to get a grip on her. She’s manoeuvring him by the shoulder closer to the doorway with every step.

The man pulls his mask off, frustrated, as the girl eludes him once again. He keeps shouting. 

Stiles tries not to flinch when he sees half of the man’s face is covered in wicked burns, curling down under his collar of his dress shirt.

“Did you think you could keep me up in the attic, my dearest niece?” The man roars, finally getting a grip on her arm, “are you and my nephew so ashamed of me that you would keep me hidden away? Maybe I want to let loose a little, join the party!”

“Peter.” Erica growls as if it’s an explanation in itself and she looks at Boyd who just nods in agreement.

“Peter... as in Peter Hale?” Stiles asks curiously, head poking up over Erica’s shoulder.

Peter Hale is the wolf who bit Issac. 

Stiles wasn’t aware he was still alive and he knows of all the Hales to find and warn about the Argents, unpredictable Peter is really not the one he wants.

He doesn’t want to meet the same fate as Issac.

This whole thing has just become potentially even more fatally dangerous for Stiles.

“You...” Erica whirls on him, “Stay here until we come back. If you leave, I’ll hunt you down and pull your head clean off your shoulders. You can take that as a promise from me.”

Erica grabs Stiles by the neck and she takes a dragging snarling breath at his temple as if to memorise his scent and she grabs his wrist again, rubbing her hand over his pulse point, marking him. 

Erica and Boyd join in the commotion on the dance floor to help the young brunette subdue Peter and together they wrestle him out of the room. 

The girl, Stiles now suspects is the younger Hale sister, Cora. 

Cora returns briefly to the room, reassuring her guests and she instructs for more champagne to be served. 

After a few seconds, the party guests settle and the atmosphere relaxes once more. 

Stiles supposes people expect a little drama when attending a ball at the home of well known werewolves. 

Cora’s tilts her head back and she sniffs the air as her eyes scan the room. 

She stops and pins Stiles with a look, nostrils flaring wildly. 

Then, a look of surprise crosses her features and she grins at him. Stiles can’t help but feel like he’s missed some sort of joke.

Just as he’s about to go to her, she slips out in the direction of where Erica and Boyd manhandled Peter away.

A large clock chimes on the hour in the background behind him, signalling that he’s down to just half an hour left before the Argents are due arrive.

Stiles, though afraid of Erica, is more afraid what the Argents will do to his family and the Hales if he doesn’t succeed in his mission.

He swiftly follows the direction in which they all left, heading down a long hallway. He rushes up what appears to be a back stairway, ascending up and away from the noise of the party. 

There are a few hallways leading off in various directions as he reaches the top of the stairs and he realises with dismay that he doesn’t know where the others went.

He doesn’t know what his plan is past finding one of the Hales, but he needs to take a moment to think. He decides gut instinct is the best plan he’s got and he looks to the door straight ahead.

It is ornate, large and wooden and it appears to be locked.

If Erica and Boyd indeed took Peter this way, Stiles feels sure that this is the way they have gone.

The door looks like it could lead somewhere important. Be protecting something important.

Stiles fiddles with his pockets and he makes short work of the lock with his pick, years of honing his skills allowing him to reap quick rewards.

He fights the urge to whoop in victory when the door swings open, succumbing to his ministrations.

He sees another long corridor leading to what he assumes are some rooms and he automatically knows when he crosses over into the bones of the older house. 

He can feel that there is a difference here somehow. Even the floor creaking under his feet sounds different.

He steps more tentatively, feeling eerily like he’s encroaching on somewhere very private, and he supposes he is. 

He’s not one hundred percent sure that the others came this way, but he still feels like it’s his best guess.

He sees a door toward the end of the hallway and he tries the handle, pleased when the door swings open. 

It reveals an ornate bedroom, fit for a queen judging by the four poster bed and the many dresses hanging up. 

Stiles would hazard a guess this is Cora’s bedroom.

Stiles backs out and he shuts the door quietly, with the idea of trying the next one.

He hopes at the very least to find a painting of the Hales, then maybe he can use it to narrow his search to the brother without arousing any more suspicion. 

Or maybe he will find the brother himself.

Although, he realises that his new plan may be a little ridiculous, considering the brother will probably be wearing a mask anyway, even if he did know what he looked like.

He considers resuming his search for Erica again, thinking maybe he can avoid Peter altogether if he’s got her as an ally.

As he unlocks the next door, between one breath and the next he’s gripped by the shoulders and dragged roughly into the room, door slamming shut behind him.

A hard body slams him up against the door, large hands gripping at his neck and pinning him in place.

“You...” a voice growls dangerously low in his ear, disbelief thick in its tone. 

Stiles has to force himself not to cry out, afraid he’s about to have his throat torn out. Or worse, his head popped off by Erica.

He opens his eyes slowly and he meets the eyes of the man he saw out on the front lawns.

“Me?” Stiles bites his lip nervously and he nods his agreement.

“What are you doing up here?” The man growls and this close Stiles can see every eyelash, every soft line on the man’s face.

He’s positively striking.

“I’m looking for a Hale,” It doesn’t even occur to Stiles to lie.

“Why?” The man growls again and this time his eyes bleed a deep red.

“Oh my... You are him aren’t you? _You_ are Derek Hale, the brother. Thank the gods,” Stiles breathes in relief and he also curses his bad luck at the same time. 

How unfortunate that the first person he’s been attracted to since Lydia Martin happens to be a potentially dangerous alpha werewolf.

Derek loosens his grip a little and he lets Stiles slide down the door, so that his feet touch the ground. 

Derek doesn’t let him go fully, nor does he move back out of Stiles’ space at all.

“Why are you looking for me?” Derek sounds adorably confused and very, very wary.

His eyes stay fixed firmly on red.

“I’ve got a message for you,” Stiles whispers excitedly and his eyes flick to Derek’s lips where he can see teeth just slightly too sharp to qualify as human, poking out over his lip.

Derek’s eyes darken and it’s not in a good way.

“A message for me... do you think you’ll be able to finish the job when others have tried and failed to kill me before?” Derek snarls, grip tightening at Stiles’ throat once again, at Stiles’ words.

Stiles grabs at his wrists, flailing. 

This isn’t quite going to plan.

“No! You misunderstand. I should have said I come with a warning, not a message... I’m colossally bad at this, please Derek. I am not here to harm you. I swear on my mother’s grave,” Stiles insists. 

He grabs Derek’s hand and presses it to his heart, so that Derek can feel the steady beat for himself.

“I do not wish you or your family any harm,” Stiles says pointedly and he lets Derek feel his heart hammer out the rhythm of his truth.

Derek cocks his head, reminiscent of Erica earlier as the fight goes out of him, face relaxing minutely.

If he’s wondering how Stiles knows about werewolves having the ability to detect lies, he doesn’t say anything.

He releases Stiles’ throat, but again, he makes no move to step back and allow him some room. 

He takes his hand back from Stiles’ chest instead and he places his palms flat against the door, each side of Stiles’ head, effectively caging him in.

Stiles swallows nervously.

Stiles’ breath is coming heavy and he tries not to squirm under the intense scrutiny but Derek remains just inches from his face, staring him directly in the eyes.

It’s clear he’s waiting. 

Stiles hesitates, unsure where to begin.

“Tell me then...” Derek demands, patience clearly not a quality he possesses.

“Ok... I just need to breath for a moment. You scared the daylights out of me. For the second time this evening...” Stiles scolds and he feels his heart swell when Derek casts his eyes downwards guiltily. He blushes very prettily.

Derek is a walking contradiction and Stiles wants to get to know every part of him, every tiny quirk.

“Sorry,” Derek grumbles, but to Stiles’ glee he sounds more irritated rather than angry now.

“Hey,” Stiles reaches out for him before he can stop himself, an insane urge to bring Derek comfort.

Stiles catches his stubbled chin and he tilts Derek’s head up, until his eyes meet his own once again.

“This is my own fault. There is really no need for you to apologise. I snuck into your party, invaded your home, your bedroom...” Stiles tells him earnestly.

Derek stares at him, eyebrows drawn down, brow furrowed as if Stiles is the biggest mystery on the planet to him.

“You snuck in? Were you and your family not invited?” Derek asks curiously.

“Well... not really no...” Stiles winces, not wanting to confess his social status just yet for some reason.

He secretly knows it’s because he’s afraid that Derek will have him thrown out on his ear. People of Derek’s status do not usually socialise with people like Stiles.

“Where did you even come from?” Derek’s voice is low, almost a whisper and it’s as if he can’t help himself when his fingers come up to touch Stiles’ face.

They dance along the edges of Stiles’ mask, playing with it.

“I’d advise against unmasking me Derek... I have many secrets to keep and I fear you may not like what you discover underneath. Ok, here goes nothing. I’m here to tell you that you and your remaining family is in grave danger. As is mine...” Stiles begins, putting on a serious tone of voice, “The Argents, Gerard and his daughter Katherine, are on their way here shortly and they plan to poison you and your sister. They do not know that your uncle survived the fire, which they caused with explosives, in case you didn’t know that already. So I would suggest sending your body guard wolf friends Erica and Boyd out to intercept them...”

Derek looks like Stiles has just hit him in the head with a two by four.

“Derek? Did you hear me?” Stiles frowns, concerned. 

“How the hell do you know about Erica and Boyd being wolves?” Derek’s expressive eyebrows now shoot high on his head in surprise, finally coming alive and Stiles has to stifle a laugh in his fist.

“That’s your first question? Well, let’s just say I have a talent for finding the trouble in any room,” Stiles grins wryly, licking his dry lips, “or should I say, more often than I’d like, it tends to find me...”

Stiles isn’t imagining it this time when he sees Derek’s eyes trace over his mouth.

“I can’t say I’m surprised about the Argents coming back here. Of course I knew it was they who set the fire. I watched them afterwards, while I was hiding, as they walked away from the burning house laughing. I don’t think they knew Cora and I weren’t in the house when they set the explosives. I knew they would come after us eventually. I told Cora it was a bad idea to have such a public gathering, that it would draw them to us. They’d be better off thinking we were dead. That’s why we skipped the ball for the past few years, that and the fact that we were rebuilding our home. I think Cora is tired of waiting for their axe to fall, frightened of living her whole life in fear. As am I, truth be told... How much time do we have before they arrive?” Derek asks, voice dangerously low and sadly resigned.

Stiles wants to comfort him, the urge strong, but he holds himself back.

“Half of an hour or maybe less now... Derek, I need to confess... I’m here for selfish reasons too... the Argents... they have the potential to hurt me and my family too... if they didn’t return back from this party...well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen...” Stiles says what he came here to really say.

Derek’s ensuing growl is a basal rumble and Stiles is shocked with the way he feels it vibrate deep through his bones.

“They have hurt you too?” Derek demands, crowding impossibly closer, except this time his hands cup Stiles’ face gently, “Stiles, tell me immediately. What have they done to you?”

Stiles melts at the look of pure indignation in Derek’s eyes, on his behalf.

“You don’t even know me... why do you even care this much?” Stiles whispers. 

He’s never been handled this tenderly. 

Not since he was a child. It’s almost enough to break him, but he can’t crack, his job here isn’t done yet.

“You came here to warn me and you don’t even know me either... why do _you_ care this much?” Derek whispers back and his lips are inches from Stiles’. 

They’re basically sharing breath at this point.

“Because of what they did to you, it’s just not acceptable Derek. They can’t get away with it.  
They are both cruel and sadistic and that’s what they do, they try to break people and tear them down. But you have faced them and you are still _here_. You are still standing, just like your beautiful house. And that gives me hope Derek... that’s why I came... you survived them, and you gave me _hope_ ,” Stiles’ eyes burn with anger.

Derek presses his nose to the skin at Stiles’ neck and Stiles tilts his head back, helpless, as Derek takes in a deep ragged breath against his skin.

“I don’t even know you... That’s so very true Stiles. But tell me, why then do you smell exactly like I’ve known you for all of my twenty two years? Why do you smell like you could belong to me?” Derek presses blunt teeth to his skin, all wet pressure at Stiles’ neck, sounding completely wrecked. 

Stiles lets out an involuntary groan of pleasure, heat rushing to his trousers. His voice sounds foreign to his own ears, he didn’t know he was capable of such a carnal sound.

Derek’s head whips up at the noise Stiles makes and his eyes flick back and forth between Stiles’, searching. 

Derek must discover the answer he is looking for and Stiles lets out a pleased and wanting moan when Derek crushes his lips to his own, hard.

Derek holds his head steady as he presses Stiles back into the door with his body. Stiles feels like every atom of his being is aching to get closer to Derek, so he grips hands into the man’s waistcoat keeping him pulled to him.

They kiss like its their last, not their first and it’s nothing but heat, desperation and heat as Derek licks demandingly into Stiles’ mouth, tongue insistent. 

Stiles meets him easily despite his inexperience and he bites on Derek’s lip as he kisses him back.

Stiles kisses Derek like he will never get to do this again, and he supposes that’s probably true.

Stiles manages to get a hand in Derek’s hair and roughly tug him back after a few long moments, both of them panting. 

Derek’s eyes are wild and he keeps staring at Stiles’ mouth, like he simply can’t help himself, like he is about to kiss him again at any moment.

“We need to stop... you need to leave,” Stiles’ voice is desperate and his words contradict what he is feeling.

“I know... I need to go and find Cora,” Derek’s voice is gravelly as he steps back and he shakes his head, as if to clear it of Stiles.

Derek keeps adjusting himself in his trousers and Stiles can’t help but notice a sizeable bulge. 

Stiles tries not to stare at how debauched Derek looks from just a few seconds of kissing, how damned good he looks, and he wonders if he looks anywhere near the same himself.

From the flush he feels in his cheeks, the tingling of his lips and how tight his own trousers feel, he imagines he’s probably mirroring Derek’s appearance rather well.

“Please Derek, you need to go and so do I... I... I can’t be found here. The Argents can’t make it here to your house, it really won’t end well. For anyone,” Stiles says quietly, the gravity of the situation coming back to him.

Stiles let himself get distracted once more as he watches Derek lean in close again. 

Stiles is at his mercy, body gravitating toward him. 

He feels intoxicated, addicted to the heady feeling of _Derek _. It’s not unlike that time he and Scott nabbed a bottle of Christopher’s best wine and they drank it in the stables, both of them laughing and giddy.__

____

____

The thought of his best friend is quite sobering.

Stiles clenches his hands at his sides to stop himself from reaching out for Derek once again and instead he opens the door to Derek’s bedroom, stepping to the side.

“Derek... you have to go... all our lives depend on you stopping them,” Stiles casts his eyes to the floor.

“I know... will you wait for me... here?” Derek surprises him by taking his hand gently and waiting for him to look at him.

Stiles knows better than to lie to a werewolf. 

So he doesn’t.

“I fear I’ll spend the rest of my life waiting for you Derek Hale... just the same as I’ve unknowingly spent it so far.”

Derek gives him a lingering look that’s unreadable, like he really doesn’t want to go, like he’s struggling desperately with something. 

Derek’s mouth opens like he’s about to say something.

Derek closes it again, no words coming out.

Instead, he presses a quick chaste kiss to Stiles’ lips and he runs.

—————

Stiles waits for a few heartbeats before following Derek out. He looks up and down the quiet hallway, Derek long gone, before deciding to see if he can exit through the older part of the house unseen, instead of heading back the way he came; his work here is technically done and now he needs to get home.

He walks quickly, following the old wooden floors and he’s met with a huge staircase leading down into what appears to be the older part of Hale house.

This part of the house has also clearly been renovated after the fire but Stiles can still see remnants of what it looked like before. 

Heavy beams line the ceilings and it’s not as clean cut as the new part of the building, but it’s lovely all the same, all the more charming for being slightly more rustic. 

It looks more lived in. Stiles wonders if Derek spends more time here than in the newer part.

Stiles heads down the staircase and he finds the front door. He unhooks a latch and he tries the handle. It opens and he slips outside, noting that the night has fully fallen. 

He loops around the side of the house, cautious not to step on the purple flowers growing haphazardly on the ground, before he stops dead at the edge of the woods.

He hesitates and he curses himself.

He takes his mask off and he rubs at his face in frustration, pressing his palms into his eye sockets.

He’d promised Melissa that he would deliver his message and he’d leave, just in case the Hales couldn’t defeat the Argents.

At least they’d be able to preserve themselves, to hide Stiles’ involvement.

But Stiles is plagued with thoughts of Derek, killed by Kate’s hands. 

He doesn’t even really know the man, yet he just can’t seem to make his feet move any further in the opposite direction, away from him.

Stiles turns around, decision made. He hurries back in the direction of the house.

—————

__Stiles re-enters through the old part of the house, finding no signs of any of the werewolves as he goes._ _

__He slips back up past the bedrooms, down the main stairway and back into the hall._ _

__He glances around, hoping to lay eyes on Derek or Cora._ _

__It’s no use, it’s so much busier in here now, he can’t even see Erica or Boyd either through the crowd._ _

__He pushes his way through bodies, people dancing and moving to some strange lively jig he’s never heard before, a cluster of musicians in the corner entertaining the growing crowd._ _

__“Oh excuse me,” Stiles nearly knocks someone off their feet and he grabs their elbow to steady them._ _

__“Stiles?!” A strawberry blond, very well dressed young lady exclaims in disbelief._ _

__Stiles balks and he touches his bare face._ _

__His mask... he hadn’t put it back on. He doesn’t even know where it is, he must have dropped it in his haste to return to Derek._ _

“Wow. Lady Lydia. Hello. I didn’t expect to see you here,” Stiles bows and she courtesy’s back as is proper, before hugging him like her life depends on it, “Jackson. I hope you’re also well...”

Jackson just scowls at him, like Stiles is something unpleasant stuck on his shoe, but that’s nothing new. 

That’s just Jackson.

Lydia sends him away to fetch Stiles and her some champagne.

“What am _I_ doing here, more like what are _you_ doing here? Did Melissa finally allow you and Scott some freedom to attend a few parties? Is she trying to get your married off? I’m surprised she thinks you can be trusted with all these noblemen and women. Jackson and I moved here to Beacon Valley you know? We got married!” Lydia beams at him.

“Oh! Well, a huge congratulations to you both. I know that’s what you always wanted and Jackson of course is a very lucky man,” Stiles nods his head sincerely at her.

“Yes, he is,” Lydia grins wickedly, “now come and dance with me and you can tell me why you’ve never bothered to write me back.”

__She drags him by the arm to a space where it’s a little less crowded and she places Stiles’ hands on her waist. They sway back and forth awkwardly until Lydia rolls her eyes and pulls him flush to her body, effectively taking the lead._ _

__The music slows and Stiles feels more comfortable, the slow tempo suiting his awkwardness a little better than the upbeat jig._ _

__Four years ago, Stiles would have killed to be in this position with Lydia, but as it stands, all he can think about is finding Derek._ _

__Lydia must sense his hesitation because she leans in close to whisper in his ear._ _

__“You dance about as well as a one legged, drunken frog,” she chastises him._ _

“Well excuse me Lady Lydia, but we didn’t all have rich parents who had us trained in the art of ballroom dancing,” he whispers back smirking and she throws her head back and she laughs gleefully.

__She always enjoyed it most when Stiles tried his best to insult her._ _

“Oh how I missed you, my dear Stiles,” Lydia pecks him on the cheek and he twirls her around.

Stiles feels a hard tap on his shoulder and he turns still smiling, to face a positively vexed looking Derek Hale.

“May I cut in?” Derek grunts and he addresses Lydia, not Stiles.

Lydia giggles.

“Of course Lord Hale. At your own risk though, you’ve been warned. Stiles here is an atrocious dancer,” Lydia chuckles, “Stiles we must catch up again later... I have much to fill you in on. And I’d still like to know why you haven’t replied to any of my letters!”

Jackson appears at Lydia’s side and they make their way off the crowded dance floor, leaving Derek and Stiles alone.

__Derek doesn’t waste any time and he takes one of Stiles’ hands in his own and places his other low on Stiles’ back, pulling him in close, confidently._ _

__Stiles has no choice but to look him right in the eyes._ _

__“You lost your mask...” Derek comments quietly as they begin to move to the sound of the music and Stiles feels a little like he’s floating, “or did you take it off for the Martin girl?”_ _

__“What? No, I dropped it somewhere I believe. In my haste to get back to... to the party...” Stiles finishes weakly._ _

Stiles takes in a gulp of air when he feels Derek’s hand slide even lower on his back and he’s sure they’re riding a dangerous line, Derek’s fingers a scant few inches away from being deemed inappropriate in public. 

__Derek scents Stiles’ neck and if he thinks he is meant to be subtle, he is nothing of the sort._ _

__Stiles feels Derek’s sharp nose drag over the vein in his neck and he shudders bodily._ _

__“You smell like her. I don’t like it.” Derek says bluntly._ _

__“Well unfortunately for you, you have no say in who I smell like,” Stiles bristles._ _

__“Is that so...” Derek huffs, frowning._ _

__Derek leans in impossibly closer and he presses his cheek to Stiles’ as they dance and Stiles feels the line his jaw, rough against the bare skin of his face._ _

__Stiles’ traitorous mind wanders as he thinks about what Derek’s stubbled cheeks would feel like pressed against other more sensitive parts of his body, not just his face, and he flushes deeply._ _

__Derek rumbles his approval and it sounds like he’s purring like a cat as he rubs his cheek back and forth on Stiles’ skin, marking him._ _

__“I will say, I much prefer you without the mask,” Derek offers, “beautiful as it was, it did not do your real face any kind justice...”_ _

__Stiles feels his flush spread from his cheeks down to his neck. He’s so warm._ _

__Derek’s eyes track the colour. He tugs on Stiles’ shirt collar lightly, as if he weren’t surrounded by people he might wish to see how far down it goes._ _

__“Derek... please...” Stiles whines but he doesn’t want him to stop._ _

__Not really._ _

__Except there is something else rather important they should be doing, not dancing and flirting shamelessly with each other._ _

__“How do you know the Martin girl?” Derek asks him, breaking him out of his thoughts._ _

__“From my childhood,” Stiles offers as limited information as he can._ _

__“You were schooled together?” Derek enquires._ _

__“Were you not taught that it’s rather rude to pry?” Stiles frowns, “if you must know, her parents owned the house in which I was raised in.”_ _

“I’m not prying... I’m merely interested... Two different noble families sharing one home, especially one as proud as the Martins? That’s quite unconventional,” Derek comments lightly, obviously fishing for more information.

__Stiles releases him with a huff and he makes to walk away, but Derek tugs him back flush to him._ _

__This time Derek doesn’t leave an inch of space between them at all and the whole front of Stiles’ body is a hot line pressed against Derek’s firm chest and hips._ _

__They’re barely dancing any more, just swaying together._ _

__Stiles is both furious and embarrassed._ _

“I’m a servant Derek... is that what you want to hear? I wasn’t invited to your stupid party because I don’t have noble blood, but I came to warn you anyway... I came for my own gain too, do not forget that. Are you satisfied now?” Stiles presses himself away from Derek, blood boiling. 

__He is intending to walk away and find Cora, who must be more agreeable than her brother._ _

__Derek follows him quickly. Derek steps into an alcove that’s covered with heavy fabrics and a tapestry, tugging Stiles with him, both of them now out of sight of the party._ _

__From the outside it looked like a wall decoration, a heavy hanging drape, but it hides a secret nook that blocks the noise of hall._ _

__The space is muted, dark and intimate._ _

__There’s not a lot of room, a tiny standing space in front of a small bench, so Stiles remains pressed to Derek out of necessity but he glares stubbornly over his shoulder, not looking him in the eyes._ _

__Derek seems to realise that Stiles is deliberately not speaking to him._ _

__“I quite like to read in here if we have guests. It’s nice and private. I don’t think even Cora knows it exists...” Derek says by way of explanation, “are you angry with me?”_ _

__“You’re wasting so much time toying with me... you should be rallying yourselves to intercept the Argents. Yet here you are, quizzing me about my upbringing,” Stiles growls and he’s proud of how annoyed he manages to sound._ _

__“So you are speaking to me again then,” Derek smirks, “good.”_ _

__“Fuck it all,” Stiles bares his teeth, “and fuck you too Derek Hale.”_ _

__Derek laughs unabashed, head thrown back and Stiles is mesmerised._ _

The man is startling when he’s angry but relaxed and happy, he’s a work of art, stunning.

__Stiles is in real trouble here._ _

“Such profanity. You’re quite rude you know. Where did you learn such words? Erica and Boyd are intercepting the Argents, please don’t fret. I trust them with my life and my sisters life. They’ve taken Uncle Peter with them. I’m confident that by the time I join them, which will be very soon, don’t worry, they’ll have things under control... if Kate and Gerard only brought poison with them, with the intention of sneaking in here, I think we shall be able to get the upper hand easily enough,” Derek offers by way of placating Stiles.

__“Do not underestimate them Derek... they have pistols too. You don’t know how much depends on it... not just your life, your sister’s life...” Stiles grimaces._ _

“I am not underestimating them. You forget that I am all too aware of what they are capable of, I’ve suffered more than most at their hands. What about _your_ life Stiles... your families? Tell me... Are the Argents the masters of your house?” Derek cups Stiles’ chin, ever perceptive.

“Yes,” Stiles breathes out his confession, eyes filling involuntarily at Derek’s gentle handling.

“Do you really think I care a single pigs backside where you come from Stiles? That I care if you’re a servant or if you’re the King of all of England? My family were born into nothing... my parents worked for everything they had, to provide for us. We were very fortunate in that my father made some wise investments and he was well respected in Beacon Valley, even as a known werewolf. But do you know how much good that did them in the end? Having all these riches? Do you know how useful a chest of jewels and gold is when your house is burning down around you? Not useful at all, I can tell you that for certain...” Derek says sincerely.

“But... this is ridiculous Derek. I’ll go back to my quiet little life after tonight, if I’m fortunate enough that you help rid us of the Argents. At best I’ll live an extraordinarily average existence in a quiet town somewhere, with enough money to keep the wolves from the door and you... you will still be here. We are worlds apart,” Stiles protests desperately.

“You are not listening to me. If you were even a little unsure of what I think about your origins, then I do not care one jot. I do however, care that you’ve risked your life to come and warn my sister and I about the Argents. I care that I’ve only just met you and I can already tell that you’re strong and brave and that you love your family dearly. I care that I was furiously jealous that you danced with the Martin girl... I care that the wolf inside me wants to pin you down and claim you in a way that it’s responded to _no-one_ else before. From the second I caught scent of you on the front lawns, you called to me and I really don’t understand it but I know that I don’t wish to fight it. I care that you came back here, even though you said you were leaving and I dare to hope that it was for me... I care that you make me feel like I can’t breathe if I’m not kissing you and I’m terrified at the thought that I won’t get to do it again,” Derek rushes out despairingly.

Stiles lets out a whine like he’s dying and he’s unsure who moves first but the next thing he knows is that he is in Derek’s arms, strong hands gripping bruises into the backs of his thighs and hoisting him up.

He locks his legs around Derek’s waist and Derek turns and presses Stiles’ back to the wall.

__Their mouths meet and it’s even more desperate than earlier._ _

__Each kiss feels hot and brand new, but it also feels like they’ve been doing this for a thousand years at the same time._ _

__Their bodies fit together perfectly and Derek rolls his hips into Stiles’, letting out a broken moan as they connect._ _

__Stiles lets out a wrecked whimper right into Derek’s mouth as Derek’s hands slip higher up his thighs, hitching him further up the wall. He holds Stiles by his backside, supporting the firm flesh of his cheeks in each of his broad hands._ _

__No one has ever touched Stiles in this way and Stiles has a feeling that Derek is probably ruining him for any potential future lovers too, this just feels so perfect._ _

__“No one else... please... just me...” Derek breaks off from where he’s biting up Stiles’ neck and he snarls, eyes red._ _

__Stiles supposes he must have been musing out loud about his future lovers._ _

__“Ok,” Stiles easily agrees, “just you... if that’s what you want...”_ _

“ _You_ are what I want,” Derek mumbles happily, pressing softer kisses along Stiles’ jawline as Stiles gets his hands in Derek’s dark hair, tugging at him gently.

__Derek lets out a desperate sounding growl._ _

__“Can I touch you?” Derek whines._ _

__“I fear I’ll die if you don’t,” Stiles pants._ _

__Derek puts him back on his feet and he wastes no time in bringing his hand to Stiles’ clothed crotch, where Stiles’ cock is straining behind the material._ _

__Derek covers him fully with his hand and he begins to rub along Stiles’ length firmly, eyes never leaving Stiles’._ _

__Stiles takes his cue from Derek but instead, he loosens the strings on Derek’s trousers and he immediately shoves his hand down the front of them._ _

__This earns him a surprised grunt from Derek, as he grips his hard bare length in his hand._ _

__“Fuck...” Derek jerks his hips hard, thick cock sliding through Stiles’ tight grip, “I thought you said no one has ever touched you like this before?”_ _

__Stiles frantically shoves the front of his own trousers down to give Derek better access and he tries not to preen when Derek stares down at his naked flesh and licks his lips, pupils blown wide._ _

__“And I thought you didn’t curse... No one has touched me like this before, I haven’t... I’ve never been touched, but I do know what to do with a cock Derek... besides, yours is rather beautiful... I’ve never seen one uncut before... oh my gods, yes, do that again,” Stiles gasps as Derek resumes pulling on Stiles’ length, but this time pressing his own thickness up against Stiles’, his excitement leaking all over them both, getting them both impossibly slicker._ _

__Stiles licks his palm liberally and he bats Derek’s hand away, not wanting to miss out on any part of this experience._ _

__Stiles wraps his hand around them both, operating on pure instinct, their cocks sliding together._ _

__The broken noise Derek makes would surely be heard from the party, so Stiles grabs him by the back of the neck and captures his mouth in a hungry kiss, intending to silence him._ _

__Stiles works their cocks fast and it’s the filthiest thing Stiles has ever dreamt of doing. It’s the most improper thing he’s ever imagined, rubbing cocks with someone with a houseful of people within earshot, but it’s so good, it’s impossible to stop._ _

__The way Derek is panting Stiles’ name into his mouth and biting on his lip isn’t helping slow the situation down any._ _

__Stiles feels pleasure begin to curl deep in his gut and he lets go as it hits him, his thick white ropes of come joining his spit on his hand and coating Derek’s cock._ _

__Derek buries his face in Stiles’ neck, mouth open on a snarl and Stiles gets to watch the head of Derek’s cock spurt between the circle of his long fingers, Derek’s warm come joining his own._ _

__Stiles takes a second to get his breath back, enjoying the feeling of Derek nestled into his neck._ _

__Stiles lifts his hand, ever curious and he licks at their conjoined mess curiously._ _

__“You taste very good... mixed together with me, that is,” Stiles says as innocently as he can manage, which judging by the way Derek smoulders in his direction, is not very._ _

__Derek pulls back from Stiles’ neck, eyes mostly pupil to stare at him incredulously as Stiles drags his tongue over his finger._ _

__Derek looks like he’s just run a marathon and by the way he’s staring at Stiles, he looks likes he’s contemplating running another._ _

__Derek grips Stiles’ wrist when Stiles goes to lick his hand again and instead, Derek sucks his fingers clean, one by one._ _

__When Stiles’ hand is licked clean, he captures Stiles’ mouth again, but this time he kisses him softly, tongue lingering, thorough and fond._ _

__Seemingly satisfied, Derek leans back and tucks them both back into their trousers, smiling shyly at Stiles._ _

__Stiles bites his lip on a ridiculously early declaration of love at the sight Derek makes. Stiles knows he must be rendered dumb, post climax._ _

__Derek opens his mouth as if to say something but he’s cut off, once again._ _

__A feral roar breaks their moment, shaking the window in its frame and Derek looks at Stiles in panic, freezing in place._ _

__“That’s Peter,” Derek growls and he changes before Stiles’ eyes, face turning furry and eyebrows disappearing into his hairline._ _

__“Go!” Stiles shouts and Derek does, tearing the tapestry down in his haste to leave their nook._ _

__Stiles follows without really thinking it through and he walks out of the hidden alcove and he steps right into chaos._ _

__Party guests are screaming and fleeing, tripping over each other in their haste to get out of the front doors, away from the scene that’s unfolding._ _

__Stiles sees Lydia stop by the front doors, hair unravelling from her perfect bun, Jackson tugging frantically on her hand._ _

__She looks Stiles dead in the eye and she screams. The volume of it brings Stiles’ hands to his ears and he drops to his knees._ _

__Then, with a final tug from Jackson, she’s gone._ _

__Peter himself is front and centre of the hall and he is a sight to behold._ _

__Neither man nor beast, stuck somewhere in between, Peter is standing up on bent hind legs and his face has only a distinctly human quality to it, that is only there if you stare long enough._ _

__Stiles can see Gerard Argent is lying prone on the floor, not moving._ _

__Erica is clutching her arm which is hanging at a strange bent angle, and blood is leaking from a bullet wound in her abdomen, as she circles them all._ _

__She is snarling at Kate, who is standing over Gerard’s still body._ _

__Kate has Cora gripped by the hair, pistol pressed hard up under her jaw._ _

__As the very last of the guests make their escape, Stiles gets back to his feet and he tries to hang back a little, realising he is still without his mask._ _

__Derek approaches Kate with his palms held up flat._ _

__“Dearest Derek,” Kate’s cold voice rings out clear in the now nearly empty room, “you never were the brightest boy. I see the past four years have done little to mature you... you sent your new little beta wolves to take on me and my father... I’ve been hunting your kind since you were in diapers, you foolish brat...”_ _

__Stiles is furious at her words. He knows that she seduced Derek when he was just a boy on the verge of manhood and the fact that she’s bragging about the age difference between them chills Stiles to his core._ _

__Stiles spares a moment to regret not sticking a dagger in the cruel wenches chest while she slept._ _

__Stiles hears Derek’s answering growl._ _

__“I won’t let you do this Kate. Don’t you think you’ve taken enough from us?” Derek sounds more furious than Stiles thought possible._ _

__“This is your own fault you know. We were going to be in and out of here, a nice, quiet, non-bloody death planned for you and your sister. But no, you sent your mutts to head us off didn’t you? Imagine my surprise when I discovered your Uncle Peter was with them too, alive and well,” Kate laughs, yanking harder when Cora struggles in her hold._ _

__Peter takes a menacing step toward her, saliva dripping from his jaws, his eyes a milky blue._ _

__“Ah, ah, ah. Stay where you are, hell beast. I loaded my pistol with wolfsbane laced bullets, just in case of a situation like this one,” Kate grins, eyes flicking back to Derek, “Father always taught me to have a back up plan.”_ _

__Stiles manoeuvres himself so he stays hidden, behind a huge stone statue, but he manages to edge closer to where Kate and Derek are standing._ _

__Gerard stirs and he begins to sit up with a groan._ _

__“Stay still Father, you’ve had a nasty bump to the head,” Kate tells him, “the burned brute took off with you, he stole your horse and dragged you back here before I could stop him. Don’t worry though, I killed the male beta wolf and wounded the female. You’ve woken up just in time for our grand finale.”_ _

__Erica lets out a broken sounding howl at the mention of Boyd._ _

__“Oh for heaven’s sake daughter, just finish it. Stop toying with them,” Gerard complains and he gets to his feet, “why are you bothering to engage them, they are animals. They are not intelligent creatures. Just put them down like the dogs they are and be done with it.”_ _

__Kate’s grin falters as she looks to her father, his annoyed tone unsettling her, always seeking his approval._ _

__Derek steps menacingly closer to them._ _

__Gerard pulls a pistol from under his cloak, hand unsteady and he points it at Derek, arm wobbling._ _

__“Together then Katherine?” Gerard closes one eye and he takes aim._ _

__Stiles can see Derek and Erica both tense, as if ready to spring forward and Stiles knows Gerard’s trajectory and aim will put a bullet clean in Derek’s heart._ _

__Stiles hears the cock of Gerard’s pistol and he steps out in front of Derek before he can even consider what he’s doing._ _

__Stiles hears a shot ring out, bullet fired from Gerard’s pistol and a wounded shout of pain rings out, echoing off the walls._ _

As Stiles drops to his knees with a grunt, he realises it was he who made the noise.

Stiles turns to glance at Derek with an apologetic look on his face. 

This is all his fault.

Derek looks half crazed at the sight of Stiles and his eyes widen in panic as he moves to crouch in front of Stiles, protecting him.

“You! Father look, it’s the boy from our house, Stiles,” Kate recognises Stiles immediately and any hope he had of being an observing party in this disappears. 

Gerard looks momentarily surprised at Stiles’ presence but he quickly changes his face into a displeased scowl.

“Excellent. For his insolence, I think we’ll probably have to clean our own house now... when we get home my darling Kate, I say we take care of Melissa, Issac and Scott too...” Gerard adds coldly.

Stiles can see Kate’s mind working, piecing it together, working out his full involvement.

“I can’t say I’m displeased by your betrayal,” Kate says gleefully, “finally, an excuse to put a bullet between your eyes and Melissa isn’t around to save you this time.”

Kate throws Cora to the floor, aiming her pistol at Stiles’ head and she pulls the trigger, Derek snarling between them. 

Stiles winces, because he is sure that one of them isn’t making it out of this situation intact.

Kate’s pistol clicks loudly and then it clicks again.

It has misfired.

Stiles falls to his side suddenly in unbearable pain, clenching his shoulder where he’s been hit and is bleeding.

Kate’s preferred strain of yellow wolfsbane works slower on humans, but it is just a deadly eventually.

He gets to watch Cora rip the useless pistol from Kate’s hands and they begin to dance, trading superficial blows.

It is clear that Cora isn’t a fighter. Erica flanks Kate from behind, though she is moving slow, wolfsbane poisoning from her own wound spreading fast.

Peter advances on Gerard who cocks his pistol again for another shot, but he is not nearly fast enough.

It’s almost anti-climatic the way in which Peter rips the old man’s throat out with a clawed hand, blood spraying.

Gerard's body falls heavily to the ground.

Stiles blinks slowly, pain clouding his senses.

Kate screams gutturally and Stiles hears a window smash.

When he looks up, Erica is collapsed to the floor and Cora and Peter are in pursuit of Kate, who has jumped out of the ground floor window.

Derek’s hands are on his face and Stiles realises Derek is speaking to him, eyes wide.

“Stiles. It’s going to be ok, are you hurt badly? Let me see?” Derek tries to push his shirt collar down but Stiles bats his hand away.

“The bullet went straight through. Go to Erica Derek. Burn the poison out of her or she will die. The Argents use a special flower, it’s yellow. You know how to do it? Ignite the wound and make a sharp incision to the chest to release the poison,” Stiles grits his teeth and he allows Derek to pull him to his feet by his good arm.

“Yes... I’ve seen it done before, by my mother. You... I can’t believe you stepped in front of a bullet for me, you idiot,” Derek frowns at him.

“And your insults are all the thanks I get,” Stiles offers him a weak smile.

Erica groans from where she lays and she vomits everywhere. Stiles can see it’s completely black.

Derek runs to her side and begins to tug up her shirt, to reveal where the bullet is lodged in her flesh.

Derek takes a claw to her chest and he makes an incision. A yellow mist raises up and out of her and Derek digs clawed fingers into her wound, seeking out the bullet.

Stiles knows that she will be ok in Derek’s hands.

Melissa, Scott and Isaac however will not be ok.

Not if Kate manages to elude Cora and Peter. Stiles can’t afford take any chances.

He needs to go. The wolves will likely live to fight another day.

Stiles’ family may not.

—————


	3. Oh they’re hopeless. A disgrace to the forces of evil...

—————

Stiles cradles his arm to stop his shoulder from jolting, and he runs out of the Hale house.

Fortune is with him as he sees Kate’s horse Juliet, a beautiful, tall grey palfrey, grazing nearby. 

Kate must have abandoned her in her pursuit of Gerard and Peter.

Stiles pats Juliet’s flank gently and she turns to nuzzle him affectionately, recognising him immediately.

Kate always says that Juliet is stubborn to ride and not of good breeding, but Stiles often sneaks her out in the evenings and she’s a dream for him.

He wipes Juliet down after every ride she has, he feeds her daily, he talks to her as he cleans the stables. 

They are firm friends, he and she.

Juliet whinnies and she turns her great head, nosing curiously at his bleeding shoulder.

“Easy girl,” Stiles whispers to her, “we need to get home.”

She perks her ears up as if she knows what he’s saying.

Stiles grabs for Juliet’s reigns and he expertly throws his leg into her stirrup and she dips amenably for him, helping him to mount her.

He groans at the pressure it puts on his shoulder when he’s seated and he starts sweating from his efforts.

Stiles needs to leave immediately.

Stiles turns Juliet around in the direction of Beacon Manor and he digs his heels into her flanks, urging her into a fast gallop, as soon as she will allow him to.

As they speed down the worn road, Stiles notes a blur coming toward him.

Boyd is leaping down the road like a man possessed on all fours, eyes blazing gold, covered in fur.

Stiles feels his heart cheer that Boyd he isn’t dead after all.

“Erica’s going to be ok! Boyd, tell Derek I had to go,” Stiles yells as Boyd passes him.

He doesn’t get an answer from the blue that is Boyd, so he pushes Juliet on.

If Kate is on foot, he should get back to the Manor well before her, if Peter and Cora don’t catch her first.

With dismay, a frightening thought hits him. 

Gerard’s horse, a muscular brown stallion called Mountain wasn’t outside with Juliet. If Peter took Mountain and used him to bring Gerard to the Hale house, surely Mountain would have been out front.

Stiles’ stomach lurches at the thought that maybe Kate managed to mount Gerard’s horse and make off astride him, before Peter and Cora could catch up to her.

Stiles pushes Juliet even harder, clinging on with his good arm for dear life.

They gallop into the Manor and it’s not a moment too soon. 

Stiles is feeling dizzy from blood loss and the poison is spreading, he can feel it.

He rides Juliet right into the stables and he dismounts and shuts her in quickly, relived to see that Mountain isn’t here. Christopher’s horse, Mountain’s brother Ash, kicks hard at his stable door, aggravated that he’d been left behind.

Stiles runs as fast as his weakening body will allow, making for the back of the house, to slip inside undetected. 

He stumbles into the kitchen quarters where Melissa is reading at the table and he trips, knocking over a shelf as he enters.

Melissa jumps to her feet when he falls onto the table breathlessly. 

He grips the table edge, bent double trying to get air in his panicking lungs, pain too much to handle.

Melissa sits him down as he tries to get breath.

“Kate knows. Mel she knows. Is she here?” Stiles manages to get out.

“I don’t think so. What in the hell happened to you?” Mellisa grabs him and moves his shirt to see his wound.

“Shot. Wolfsbane bullet. Yellow,” Stiles grunts loudly, teeth grinding together, as she pours a whole bottle of alcohol over the wound, ruining his shirt, “it’s too late to release it through my chest... I can feel it spreading in my blood.”

Stiles nearly laughs, half hysterical when he looks down and realises his blood hasn’t seeped through onto his father’s jacket. 

He has enough energy left to be happy about that.

Melissa rushes to rouse Isaac and Scott. 

Isaac emerges from their sleeping quarters seconds later with some filled bags of clothes that they had previously prepared, in case of need of a hasty exit.

“Sit still and drink this,” Melissa unlatches the pantry and from behind some jars of preserves, she produces a thick looking yellow syrup.

“What is it?” Stiles asks, breath coming back to him slowly, pain still very much present. 

He moans as a wave of agony shoots through his shoulder.

“Just something I made up in case Kate or Gerard decided to use that nasty yellow plant on one of my boys,” Melissa smiles at him, “I believe it’s an anti-dote... the veterinarian who sees to the horses seemed to take quite an interest in Scott when he visited last month, for some reason. He gave me a book to read on poisonous plants that affect wild animals. There was a large section on wolves. I was more than suspicious at the time, but he seems to be a good man and we need all the help we can get. I may have experimented a little with the natural remedy’s mentioned in his book...I made up a few jars tonic, yellow, white and purple wolfsbane...” 

“I’ll try anything,” Stiles sighs and he takes the jar off her.

“It didn’t say anything about it working for humans. Or werewolves either actually, just regular wolves,” Melissa looks worried, “it might strike you dead...”

“Well, i’ll did from the poison regardless... It can’t hurt to try,” Stiles notices his arm is turning yellow, sickly looking lines creeping out from around the bullet hole.

He drains the jar before he can overthink it and he winces at the taste.

Nothing happens for a few painstaking moments but then he feels the fog surrounding him begin to clear.

They all watch as the lines being to recede and the small bullet hole looks fresh and clean once more, already barely bleeding.

“Thank the gods,” Melissa presses gauze to his wound and he pulls his ruined shirt back over her hastily applied dressing, to hold it in place.

Melissa looks up at Isaac as if she suddenly remembers he is there, waiting quietly. 

She looks behind him and notices the hallway empty.

“Where is Scott? Isaac, where’s Scott?!” Melissa asks Isaac, voice pitching up in alarm.

“I don’t know... He was there when I went to sleep,” Isaac’s eyes are wide and scared and he’s clutching his arms to his body, staring at Stiles’ wounded shoulder.

Melissa herds them both outside into the darkness and they creep around the side of the barn, Isaac sniffing the air, searching for Scott.

“Where is he...” Melissa whispers.

“Allison...” Stiles realises with dawning horror, “Scott’s been sneaking out at night to see Allison. Every night this week in fact...” 

“He wouldn’t have, not tonight. He didn’t know you’d gone, but he knew not to cause any trouble this close to us leaving,” Melissa shakes her head but Stiles knows Scott would have gone to Allison anyway. 

His best friend is hopelessly in love and he would gone to see her without a second thought. He wouldn’t have intentionally put himself in danger, but blinded by his strength of feelings for her, Scott definitely would have gone to her.

“I’ll get him,” Stiles nods resolutely.

“No!” Mellisa shakes her head, about to go back into the house herself.

They hear a soft whinny and to Stiles’ horror, Mountain trots out from the tree line, saddle empty as he wanders, grazing in the open field at the side of the house.

Stiles knows there is no way the horse would have made it back this distance without a rider.

The presence of Gerard’s horse can only mean one thing. 

Kate is already here. 

Judging by the calm of Mountain’s breathing, Kate has been back for longer than Stiles has.

“Melissa you need to listen to me. Go now. Take Isaac, and get to the Hale house. Ask for Erica or Derek and tell them everything. And just ask for asylum until I can get to you... Melissa, you know which way to go. If I don’t get there... if we don’t make it...” Stiles trails off, not wanting to finish that thought.

“I’m not leaving you behind Stiles,” Isaac whispers, bless his heart.

“Isaac, you need to know, Peter is there. But I don’t think he will hurt you now but stay alert around him. Go to Derek first, make sure he knows you both belong to me and he will protect you. We will have to take this risk. Tell Derek that I said you are not to be harmed,” Stiles has to trust his instincts about Derek and Erica and he prays his trust in them is not undeserved.

“Well, I’m not leaving you behind either...” Melissa growls at him, “I’m not leaving _any _of my boys behind, not you, not Scott, not Isaac.”__

____

____

Stiles changes his focus.

“Isaac... listen to me. Kate will kill us all... Gerard is dead, killed at the hands of the Hales. Kate will be half crazed with grief, hell bent on revenge. Every damned one of us will be finished Isaac, she knows I was there, she saw me. I need you to take Melissa and go. I won’t be able to live with it if she kills you both, not when you could have escaped. I’ll find Scott. It will be ok. But you need to take Mel... go now Isaac. I need you to trust me,” Stiles pleads desperately, gripping Isaac’s arm tightly.

“No!” Melissa makes a grab for Stiles but Isaac is faster than her. 

Isaac clamps a hand to Melissa’s mouth, pressing gently but firmly so she can’t make a noise and he grabs her up in a carry hold and he begins to run for the tree line, their bags slung over his shoulder.

To Stiles’ relief, Isaac doesn’t even once look back.

Stiles steels himself. 

__He takes off his father’s coat, unwilling to ruin it with the blood that’s undoubtedly going to be shed and he hangs it on a fence post._ _

__He walks back into the house head held high and this time, he strides through the front doors like he belongs there._ _

—————

Stiles makes his way quietly through the house and he’s struck by how still it is, as if everyone were already in their bed chambers.

Stiles edges down toward the basement level, the only light here coming from the occasional lit torch, protruding out from the stone walls.

__Stiles pauses to listen, but again, there is no sound._ _

__He searches the basement rooms where the Argent’s weaponry is and he finds no-one there._ _

__Stiles tries some of the locked cabinets with the hope of arming himself, but they remain sealed tight, despite his best efforts to pry them open with his lock pick._ _

__He’s about to give up totally when he sees a long rounded piece of wood propped against the back of the door._ _

__A bat. Of course._ _

__Christopher has been encouraging Allison to learn some physical skills, other than archery._ _

__Allison had told Scott that Christopher had learnt about a game called longball, involving a bat and ball, when he last travelled overseas._ _

__On his return, Christopher had commissioned the local Beacon Hill’s carpenter to fashion Allison a bat of her very own and he’d given it to his daughter for her last birthday._ _

__Christopher and Allison often play longball out on the lawns, while Kate and Gerard watch on, clapping every time Allison makes a hit._ _

__Stiles picks up the bat and he hefts it, gripping it in his good hand._ _

__It’s heavy and well made, the rounded and polished wood handle sitting easily in his grip._ _

__He swings it, imagining he’s striking a ball._ _

__Or striking Kate Argents head._ _

__He huffs, pleased._ _

__It will make a decent weapon. Not that he has a choice of any others._ _

__He hears a loud thump and voices ring out from above._ _

__He hurries. He makes his way back upstairs, uninterrupted, until he reaches the lounge rooms._ _

__“On your knees Scott,” Kate’s voice demands._ _

__Stiles stays hidden around the corner._ _

__“Aunt Kate, he hasn’t done anything!” Allison is screaming._ _

“At the very least dear niece, I found Scott in your bed... If that’s not enough for me to end his life here and now, I don’t know what is. But I need him alive for a few moments longer... I need him to talk,” Kate screeches.

“Kate. That’s enough. Allison can explain herself to _me_ about why Scott was in her private chambers, not to you, because I am her father. Now come, explain why you were seeking out Scott in the first place,” Christopher’s rough voice is uncharacteristically demanding.

__“I will explain all, after I beat this one until he tells me where his traitor of a brother is,” Kate sounds hoarse._ _

__Stiles winces as he hears a smack of skin meeting skin and Scott grunts out in pain._ _

__“Stop it Aunt Kate!” Allison cries out._ _

__“Allison, come back here to me, I will handle this,” Christopher says._ _

__“Father no, I will not! You are not handling this at all! Scott has not done a thing wrong and he doesn’t even know where Stiles is!” Allison yells._ _

__“He may have even been with him earlier this evening...” Kate hums to herself, contemplating._ _

__“What are you talking about? Explain yourself Kate, I thought you and Father were out hunting deer tonight?” Christopher asserts himself again and Stiles can almost picture him gritting his teeth at his sister._ _

“We _were_ hunting, oh yes. But not for deer, my naive brother. We went back to the Hale house,” Kate all but growls.

__“For what?” Stiles can hear the genuine confusion in Christopher’s tone,_ _

__“To finish it! To finish them all off!” Kate shrieks frustratedly and she sounds half insane._ _

__“To finish... oh my gods, Katherine, please tell me that you weren’t behind that horrendous fire after all?” Christopher asks in disbelief._ _

__“Of course I was behind it, you fool. Father told you that we needed to do something about the growing concentration of wolves there, and you did not have the stomach for it. Of course it fell to me to make a plan and to execute it,” Kate snarls._ _

__Stiles is frozen. He actually wants to hear this part of the story. He’s more than a little relieved to hear that Allison’s father at least wasn’t involved._ _

__“I told him... I told him there were children there, human children,” Christopher sounds like he’s about to vomit, “when the Sheriff of Beacon Valley accused us of causing that fire, I defended you! We had to leave our home for fear of being imprisoned! He was right not to believe us. I can’t believe this...”_ _

“Yes well... thank you for defending our good family name dear brother, but it was all in vain. Father and I burnt that house and I’m proud of it. But the eldest son and one of his sisters survived, along with the Uncle, although he was badly burned and he remains unhealed. He’s somewhat mad I think,” Kate continues, “so we went back this evening to finish off their lineage for once and for all. You wouldn’t have even known anything was amiss, except someone warned the Hales. And that someone was the little _betrayer_ that this one calls his brother, Stiles,” Kate sneers, “and thanks to him, Father is now dead at the hands of those very wolves.”

“Wait, Father is dead? Kate you’ve gone insane, this has gone far enough... let the boy up immediately,” Christopher demands.

__“Grandpa is dead?” Allison’s voice sounds so small._ _

“Yes. As I said, those beasts killed him. So no brother, I shall not let this one up,” Kate’s voice is cold, “now tell me Scott, or I’ll plunge this knife into your side and leave you to bleed out here on the floor, _where is your brother?_

Stiles steps out into the open doorway, smacking the bat into the palm of his hand and doing his best to look as threatening as he can.

__“I’m here, I’m here. I’ve been gone for a few hours and the whole place falls apart?” Stiles widens his stance._ _

__“Stiles! You don’t even play longball,” Scott says from where he’s kneeled on the floor, hands bound._ _

__“Scott, that’s really not the point,” Stiles stares straight at Kate._ _

__“You told the Hales that we were coming...” Kate snarls and she takes a step toward Stiles._ _

__As long as that’s a step away from Scott, Stiles is happy._ _

__Stiles sees the blade she’s carrying is uncoated, so Kate must still be unaware that Scott is a werewolf._ _

__Good. That could give them an advantage._ _

__Kate advances but Christopher grips her arm and she spins into action._ _

__Kate strikes her brother underneath the jaw so hard that he hits the ground and he doesn’t move again, knocked out cold._ _

__Kate whirls and she plunges the knife deep into Scott’s abdomen, leaving it there and she’s hurtling toward Stiles before he even takes two steps toward her._ _

__She’s good, Stiles will allow her that._ _

__Stiles sees Allison rush to Scott’s side before Kate is on him._ _

__Stiles brings the bat back at the last second and he strikes her hard in the shoulder knocking her into the doorframe. Stiles backs up into the entranceway of the house._ _

__They circle each other widely, Stiles holding the bat in his non dominant arm due to his bullet wound. Kate keeps rubbing her shoulder._ _

__“I’ll gut you Stiles. I’ll wrench your wretched head from your wretched neck,” Kate threatens._ _

__“I’ll be very honest with you Katie, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that threat tonight and the person who said it first to me was a lot scarier than you. Much more beautiful too. So you’ll have to excuse me if I pay no mind to you, you’ll have to do better than that if you hope to frighten me,” Stiles is all false bravado._ _

__He’s starting to sway a little from the earlier blood loss and from the sheer exhaustion of the events of the evening._ _

__Kate charges wildly at him again and this time, she catches him before he can swing the bat._ _

__She tackles him around his middle and the back of Stiles’ head smacks off the hardwood floor with a loud crack and his vision blurs._ _

__He feels at the back of his head and his hand comes away wet with blood._ _

__Kate gets up and she kicks him in the stomach and Stiles curls into a ball, trying to protect himself. Kate gets a grip on Stiles’ weaker arm and she proceeds to drag him out of the house, toward the front lawns._ _

__She’s by no means fast at dragging Stiles, but she’s strong and clearly determined._ _

__Stiles has a dreaded feeling he knows where she’s headed._ _

__Stiles’ free hand scrabbles for purchase on the pebbled ground but he’s weak and he’s on the verge of passing out completely._ _

__Kate grabs him by the scruff of his neck and hauls his body over the side of the outside fountain, pressing him face down into the green shallow water._ _

__Stiles flails, trying to get a grip on the wet edge of the fountain stone but Kate stands on the backs of his legs, to stop his movement._ _

__Stiles takes in a gulp of air when he momentarily gets his face above the water line but Kate forces his head back down once more._ _

__He struggles for a few moments more before he takes in a mouthful of water and he knows his time on earth is nigh._ _

__Images dance through his mind, playing for him like a flip book of pictures and he stops struggling._ _

__He lets the darkness in, an eerie calm washing over him; he sees his mother’s smiling face as she kisses him goodnight as a child. He sees the back of his father’s head as he walks away from him, but then he pictures his father crying at his grave, a false memory. Hi imagines his father full of regrets at not coming back for him. Then he sees Allison and Scott, married and happy, with hordes of brown haired children at their ankles. He sees Melissa and Isaac, protected and safe with the Hales. And lastly, as his lungs give out and the last of his pain leaves him, he sees Derek in his mind._ _

__Stiles spares a second to wonder why this person he only met tonight is featuring in his loved ones montage, but in his heart, he knows why he’s seeing him._ _

__He sees Derek’s beautiful smile, he sees his gentle and intelligent eyes._ _

__Derek stands across a green field, calling to him, beckoning to him._ _

__“Come back to me Stiles,” Derek says, barely audible, soft voice sounding like it’s a million miles away._ _

__Stiles’ mind floats and he hasn’t got the strength to reply to him. But he wants to. He so wants to._ _

__The image of Derek beckons to him again, hands outstretched, reaching for him and Stiles can see his mouth is moving._ _

__Stiles frowns because he can’t hear what Derek is saying now, so he steps closer to him in his mind._ _

__“Come back to me Stiles... don’t leave me... Please don’t leave me...” Derek calls from across the field, voice becoming clearer._ _

Stiles grips at his chest because a fierce pain blooms and it’s like the world explodes into motion and colour as he’s dragged back to consciousness, ripped from the field in his mind.

The first thing he sees as he opens up his eyes is Derek’s very real and stricken face, inches from his own.

Stiles turns his head and vomits water up onto the stone pathway.

Stiles is on his back on the ground in front of the statue, head cradled tenderly in Derek’s lap. 

Derek’s strong hands support him as Scott leans over his chest, pausing in his ministrations of pumping the water from Stiles’ body, panting. 

__“Oh thank god,” Scott thumps his forehead into Stiles’._ _

__Allison is standing behind Scott, busy furiously binding her Aunt by her feet and wrists._ _

__Stiles tries to sit up but his vision swims and Derek guides him back down._ _

__“How?” Stiles feels like he’s swallowed broken glass, body aching all over, his throat raw._ _

__His ears are ringing and his head feels like... well... it feels like it’s been smashed off the ground._ _

__“Stiles... Please don’t try to move,” Derek’s thumbs are grounding, pressing into the space behind his ears._ _

__Scott stands up when he sees Stiles is going to be ok and he goes to help Allison drag Kate away, bound and gagged, into the house._ _

__Stiles has never seen his best friend look so furious._ _

__“Melissa... Derek, did Melissa and Isaac reach you?” Stiles groans, trying to sit up again._ _

__“Yes. I passed them by, not far from here. Erica has taken them back to Cora for the moment,” Derek’s voice is getting deeper by the second._ _

__“Are you mad at me?” Stiles whispers._ _

__“Yes you imbecile! Of course I’m mad at you. You left! You’re a complete fool Stiles. You should have waited. Waited for me. If I hadn’t got here to pull you out of her grip just in time... she could have killed you,” Derek shudders, then he growls but he doesn’t stop massaging Stiles’ head._ _

Stiles nuzzles into his touch. 

__“But she didn’t... see, it all worked out in the end... how did you even find me?” Stiles groans in pain._ _

Derek’s eyebrows draw down in a frown.

__“You’re hurt. That is not an acceptable outcome to me in any shape or form. I tracked you here,” Derek purses his lips, putting on an unhappy pout._ _

Stiles pats him on the forehead, pausing to stroke his eyebrows, until Derek’s face relaxes.

__“I was on a horse. Riding a well ridden road, that many horses pass over day to day... I rode all the way to a different town... Derek, be honest, how on earth did you track me here?” Stiles asks, blinking up at Derek from under his long lashes._ _

__Derek flushes beet red and Stiles becomes aware that he is possibly a little bit gone on Derek, as he finds the look positively adorable on him._ _

__“Iknowyourscent,” Derek mumbles quickly._ _

__“Pardon me?” Stiles frowns up at him._ _

__Derek sighs with his whole self and as he is pressed underneath Stiles’ body, Stiles feels every movement._ _

__“I said... I am very familiar with your scent,” Derek says, looking resigned._ _

__He rolls his eyes dramatically, as if this is all Stiles’ fault and one big inconvenience to him._ _

“That’s almost impossible Derek... even for an alpha werewolf. Scott and I, he’s my brother by the way... I don’t think I told you he was a werewolf too... I digress... We tested scent ability when he was turned and Scott couldn’t track me if I went further than anything but a mile away, and he’s known me my entire life practically. Heavens, he sleeps in the same room as me. Isaac can’t track me either for that matter, he’s the wolf you saw with Melissa? Although granted, he’s known me a while less than Scott,” Stiles feels his head throb at the effort of having to make coherent sentences. 

__Derek moves one of his hands to clasp with one of Stiles’, sensing his pain._ _

__Stiles watches black veins thread up Derek’s arm from where they’re connected and he gasps, suddenly feeling very light and pain free._ _

__“I fear I’d be able to follow you to the edge of the earth Stiles,” Derek whispers, “you’re impossible to forget.”_ _

__“Oh wow. What are you doing to me?” Stiles groans dazedly, body going limp with relief._ _

__“I’m taking your pain away,” Derek shuffles so Stiles is situated more fully in his lap._ _

__“I’m afraid I’m going to pass out on you now,” Stiles says cheerily._ _

__“Stay awake. Scott is headed into the town to fetch a doctor. I can hear him talking with Christopher, tending to him. He’s also awake now,” Derek tells him._ _

__But it’s already too late._ _

__Stiles feels the darkness threaten to envelop him and he lets it happen, head heavy, body exhausted._ _

It doesn’t feel anything like it did when he was drowning. It feels like someone’s wrapping him in the heaviest and most comfiest blanket, blocking out all light and noise, protecting him.

His family are safe. 

Kate and Gerard have been stopped from hurting anyone else.

Derek is here with him.

He can rest now.

He closes his eyes, feeling impossibly safe in Derek’s embrace.

—————


	4. Both a little scared, neither one prepared...

—————

When Stiles reawakens he comes around slowly, eyes blinking lazily, total contrast to the last time, when Derek and Scott had saved his life.

He stretches his body out, joints cracking and he knows he’s not in his own bed before he even sits up.

Eyes opening up wide, he recognises the space immediately, although he’d only been briefly acquainted with it once before and that time, he’d not made it past the door.

He shuffles upright in the bed propping his pillows and he looks around the room curiously.

There is a covered pitcher of water and a glass on the bedside table. Stiles pours himself some and he drains it in one go, refilling his glass.

The room is lit with a faint orange glow peeking through a crack in the heavy dark drapes, the approaching sunrise teasing its arrival.

Stiles looks down and his bare legs are tucked underneath a filled soft blanket, sheets white and clean. 

He checks beneath the blanket and he is totally nude. 

He’d be annoyed about that, except he has a fresh dressing on the bullet wound in his shoulder and he doesn’t have any blood on him. 

He peels back the dressing and he’s surprised to see the wound has closed up, scar tissue already healing, the dressing coming away clean. It doesn’t even hurt when he pokes at it. 

He fingers the back of his head and he doesn’t even feel a bump there. The wound must have been superficial.

The bang to his head must certainly have cleaned his clock good and proper though, he feels like he’s been asleep for a decade.

The fact he has mostly healed has him pondering just how long he has been unconscious for. 

Someone has clearly been cleaning and tending to him.

He sits back and the pillows feel like he is shoving his head into what he imagines a cloud would feel like. 

He brings the blanket up to his chin and he inhales it.

It smells familiar, even though Stiles shouldn’t really be that intimate with the scent, but it undoubtedly smells like Derek.

Stiles is struck with how quiet and peaceful it is in his room, light grey walls inoffensive and calming.

Sleep threatens to pull him back in just when he hears footsteps approaching outside. The handle of the door turns.

His heart begins to pound but when the door opens, it it not Derek as he expected, but Lydia Martin enters the room.

“Ah... I had a feeling you’d be awake soon...” Lydia smiles at him and she takes a seat by the edge of the bed.

Stiles pulls the blanket up to his chin, covering his bare torso.

Lydia barks out a laugh.

“No need for modesty dear, who do you think stripped and cleaned you?” She chuckles.

Stiles balks.

“Oh relax, I’m joking. Doctor Deaton saw to your head wound, turns out he isn’t just a veterinarian... Then we let Scott do the honours and scrub you down. He wasn’t happy about it, he kept mumbling something about never being to erase the image of your limp sausage from his brain,” Lydia grins.

“You’re taking far too much pleasure in my obvious torment,” Stiles frowns at her, “what are you even doing here Lydia?”

“Im not entirely sure. The night you arrived here, I woke up from my slumber in this very chair, barefoot and my feet black from running in the forest. I’d gone to sleep in my own bed. I think I gave Jackson quite a fright. Derek also wasn’t best pleased when he discovered me,” Lydia hums, “it’s becoming more clear to me the reason I came here, the longer I spend here.”

“You’re speaking in riddles. I know you like to think you have the gift of foresight Lydia, but I need you to work the other direction. To look backwards, not forwards and to fill in the gaps in my memory,” Stiles grouches but Lydia takes his hand.

“Fine. What exactly would you like to know?” She asks, green eyes boring into his.

“Tell me, how did I get here?” Stiles asks.

“Derek carried you here of course. You scared him half to death when you passed out on him and he all but ran back here with you. He didn’t feel safe not having you somewhere he could protect you. He sent Boyd to head off Scott, who had gone to fetch Doctor Deaton. Melissa took care of you until Doctor Deaton arrived here, with Scott and Boyd in tow,” Lydia shrugs.

“Right... and where is Kate right now?” Stiles winces at even saying her name out loud but he needs to know.

Lydia bites her lip at the question. 

“That, I’m not sure I can answer, as none of us really know. Melissa had to fill me in on this part myself, as I did not witness the events first hand. Allison and Christopher Argent delivered Lady Katherine to the Hale’s doorstep very shortly after Derek arrived back here with you. Derek was apparently positively feral at the idea of having her under the same roof as you. Cora told me she feared he would kill her just to protect you and she didn’t want Derek’s humanity to suffer any further, so she thought it better someone take Kate to the Sheriff’s station immediately, to remove her from Derek’s sight,” Lydia shrugs.

“And she escaped?” Stiles guesses with a grimace. 

He will never sleep easy again, not if Kate is roaming free.

“Not quite... ah... Peter volunteered to be the one to take her,” Lydia sighs, “he appeared quite calm by all accounts as Melissa tells it... he kept saying how he would only be happy to escort Katherine and ensure she met her justice...”

Stiles can guess where this is going.

“He killed her...” Stiles winces.

“We don’t actually know... Although, days later, when we realised that Peter and Kate had never arrived at their destination, Boyd and Isaac went searching for them... they found a lot of blood in the woods. Kate’s blood. Peter still hasn’t returned,” Lydia says.

“Do you think she’s still...” Stiles begins.

“No. I know she’s not alive. How do I know for sure, you might ask? Scott isn’t the only one keeping secrets Stiles. You mock my gift of foresight but I dreamt of her... I felt Peter’s rage, for his lost children and for his wife... I felt his deep satisfaction as he took his revenge on her, teeth in her throat. I felt his burns healing, as he crossed that mental barrier, his scars no more. I felt his relief and his urge to begin living again. Lady Katherine is not alive. I can’t tell you how I know, but I am quite sure.” Lydia nods, eyes hard.

“I can’t say I’m not glad,” Stiles nods, “and I trust you Lydia...”

“Do you have any other questions, or may I go and tell the others that you are finally awake? There are a lot of people eager to see you,” Lydia smiles and she squeezes his hand, “you are quite the hero.”

“Just the one question. Why did you stay, after you woke up here?” Stiles asks curiously.

“Ah. Well. I feel partially responsible for the suffering you endured over the last few years after mine and my parents departure from Beacon Manor. No, don’t argue, I can see in your eyes you’re about to attempt to alleviate my of my guilt, but I need to carry it, for a while at least. I tried to write to you but I should have realised that you wouldn’t have stopped writing back so abruptly if everything was fine. I was so concerned with building a perfect life for myself with Jackson, I forgot about one of the best and only true friends I ever had...” Lydia’s eyes are shockingly watery, “I didn’t realise I could have had both of you in some capacity.”

Stiles has never seen her show this much emotion and frankly, it’s a little worrying. 

He pulls her into a hug and he strokes her hair gently.

“I’d let me go if I were you,” Lydia snuffles into his shoulder.

“No, you said I was your best friend. I can’t wait to tell Jackson. Scott’s going to be just a little enraged I think. That’s supposed to be his official title “best friend”. Maybe you can fight him for the honour. I’d bet on you, werewolf strength or not,” Stiles doesn’t let her go as he laughs.

“No. That’s not the reason. Seriously Stiles, you’re going to regret it if you don’t release me...” Lydia warns but she doesn’t pull away, leaving it up to him.

Stiles squeezes her tighter to him, eliciting a belly laugh from her.

“I missed you. I even missed Jackson a little,” Stiles confesses.

“Fine, continue this ridiculous embrace. It’s your funeral,” Lydia whispers just as the door clicks open again.

Stiles looks up, eyes bright, to where Derek Hale is standing there, immobile. His body fills the doorway and the look on his lovely face is thunder personified.

Melissa, Scott and Isaac are in the hallway behind him and they rush around Derek’s stationary body and into the room, excited to see Stiles awake and they all begin talking over each other.

Stiles doesn’t take his eyes off Derek, but Derek’s gaze is burning, trained on where Stiles’ hand is clasped in Lydia’s. Stiles belatedly realises she’s still pressed to his body.

His naked body, save for a sheet, Stiles realises. In Derek’s own bed.

Derek turns abruptly and he walks away from the room, slamming the door so hard that the glass of the water pitcher cracks all the way up the side.

“Ah hell,” Stiles lets go of Lydia and he flops back down into the bed as Scott and Isaac tackle him.

“Well, I did try my best to warn you,” Lydia chuckles.

——————-

Stiles doesn’t get so much of a glimpse of Derek until later that night.

Stiles manages to come down to dinner, after Scott assists him in taking a warm bath and dressing him in some clothes that Scott says Derek has left out for him.

Stiles is feeling very good but the evening, very rested.

Scott walks with him to the dining room and the large, long wooden table is full of both people and food.

Cora is at the head of the table, with Melissa and Isaac flanking her. Isaac is talking animatedly, seated next to Cora, arms flying everywhere as he speaks and Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen the boy say so much in one go, to any one person.

Erica is sitting next to Boyd, her arm flung casually over the back of Boyd’s chair and when she looks up and sees Stiles, she blows him a kiss and gives him a ludicrous wink that has Stiles choking down a laugh.

Boyd nods his head in greeting.

Then comes Allison opposite Boyd, empty chair next to her that Stiles just knows is saved for Scott. 

On the next chair is Derek, who keeps his eyes firmly fixed on his plate.

The only other empty chair at the table is next to Derek, between him and Lydia, who is situated at the very end.

Scott sits down and Stiles makes his way over to Derek and Lydia.

As he approaches, Derek gets up abruptly and Stiles’ heart sinks into his stomach, fearing he is about to leave.

Derek’s eyes whip up to Stiles’ and he has this broken look on his face that Stiles can’t quite decipher.

Instead of leaving, Derek steps out and pulls Stiles’ chair out for him, clearing his throat as he does so.

“Thank you Derek,” Stiles touches Derek’s arm as he takes his seat and his fingers crackle with static, at the smallest touch between them.

Nobody stops talking for Stiles’ arrival, they just carry on with their various topics, including Stiles in the natural conversation.

Stiles has never sat down to dinner like this and he’s glad it isn’t at all formal. 

Stiles finds out the Hales don’t have servants at all, they all take turns to cook and clean, Erica and Boyd included.

It becomes apparent that Derek has prepared dinner himself by the way everyone keeps praising him, when they sample various dishes of his food.

Derek mumbles his thanks but doesn’t try to engage in any of the conversations and he doesn’t speak with Stiles at all, keeping his eyes firmly on his plate.

Stiles can feel himself getting more and more irritated at Derek’s treatment of him as the evening wears on.

He leans over to Derek once Lydia is distracted sufficiently. She has engaged in a friendly debate with Allison about the history of Beacon Hills and they’re currently both unmoving on a point about the year it was first mapped.

Stiles couldn’t care a toss.

He gets as close as he dares to Derek and he whispers right in his ear, letting his lips brush his lobe.

“Pass me that dish that you keep going back to... I want to try it,” Stiles says as huskily as he knows how to. 

Let Derek ignore that.

Derek tenses but he picks up the dish, placing it in front of Stiles. 

When Stiles doesn’t move, Derek uses the large serving spoon to place a few bite sized pieces on Stiles’ plate.

When Stiles again makes no move to eat, Derek breaks.

“I thought you wanted to try it,” Derek glares at him, whispering furiously.

“I do... but my arm is so weak... I got shot Derek... I’m so, so weak I don’t think I can even lift my fork to my mouth,” Stiles smiles playfully, heartbeat tripping obviously on his lie.

Derek cocks an eyebrow at him but a small smirk tugs at his mouth. Stiles grins in return, because that’s what he wanted from him.

The game is afoot.

“You seemed to manage your fork well enough with the huge hunks of beef pie you just inhaled,” Derek challenges. 

“Well, how rude. I’ve been unconscious for nearly an entire week Derek and you’re being very unhelpful you know,” Stiles smiles slyly, teeth set in his lower lip.

“What do you want me to do Stiles, feed you?” Derek huffs exasperatedly.

“Why Derek, how kind of you to offer. What a good host. Yes please. What is this dish?” Stiles flutters his eyelashes innocently and he licks his lips expectantly.

Derek looks at him in utter disbelief. 

Derek glances around the table but no one is paying them any attention, so he brings his gaze back to Stiles.

“It’s caramelised chicken pieces,” Derek says and he spears one with his fork violently, the plate clanging as his fork goes through the meat, “open your damn mouth up then...”

“Be gentle with me,” Stiles smirks and Derek’s nostrils flare as he brings the fork to Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles uses more tongue than is necessary when his mouth envelops the head of the fork and he chews slowly, deliberately.

He makes sure to groan and lick his lips liberally after he swallows.

The food is actually divine, quite possibly the nicest thing he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting.

He notices with glee that Derek is staring at his mouth, cheeks flushed.

“What did you think of it?” Derek asks, voice rough.

Stiles places his hand high on Derek’s thigh under the table and he’s rewarded with a sub vocal growl from Derek, barely audible. 

Stiles can only feel it because he has his hand on him.

He lets his fingers dance higher up Derek’s thigh.

Stiles glances around and Erica looks up curiously, but with a smirk, she turns her attention back to Boyd. 

“What did I think of it? Honestly? It was positively _orgasmic_ ,” Stiles brushes Derek’s ear with his mouth again as he leans in close.

Stiles feels Derek grip his hand, stilling his progression. 

Then, hand on top of Stiles’, Derek pushes Stiles’ hand further up his leg.

He is inching their joined hands up his own inseam, coming precariously close to his Derek’s cock and Stiles swallows raggedly.

Derek turns his head and he sniffs at Stiles’ temple.

__“You’re wearing my clothes,” Derek growls quietly, “and you smell very fucking good right now.”_ _

__Stiles lets his fingers dance lightly over the bulge in Derek’s trousers._ _

__“Such profanity,” Stiles pretends to be scandalised as he cups Derek firmly._ _

__Derek draws in a rough breath and he stands up abruptly, clutching his napkin to his front._ _

__Stiles looks up at him in alarm, worried suddenly that he’s overstepped his mark._ _

__“Stiles is really tired,” Derek announces loudly to the table, “aren’t you?”_ _

__Everyone stops to watch them with amused looks on their faces._ _

__Derek looks down at Stiles and jerks his head at him, eyebrows high on his head._ _

__Stiles realises what Derek wants from him._ _

__“Oh! Oh! Yes... yes, so very tired,” Stiles stretches his arms above his head and fakes a huge yawn._ _

__Derek rolls his eyes at his frankly appalling acting._ _

__They’re not fooling anyone._ _

__“Stiles, I told you not to over do it. Derek, can you see him safely back to bed? I need to escort Allison back to Beacon Manor, I told her father I would see her home safely after dinner,” Scott says earnestly, looking worriedly between his friend and Derek._ _

They’re not fooling anyone _apart_ from sweet, naive Scott, Stiles amends.

__“Off you go then Stiles,” Melissa’s voice jerks Stiles into action and he stands up, jostling Derek in the process._ _

__“Have a good evening boys,” Erica grins, “Derek, you’d better make sure Stiles doesn’t do anything too strenuous, he’s only just healed up...”_ _

__Derek nudges Stiles in the direction of the doorway and they beat a hasty retreat, leaving the dining room pressed shoulder to shoulder._ _

__As soon as they are out of earshot, Derek grabs Stiles’ hand and he crowds him up against the corridor wall._ _

__Derek’s breath is coming fast and his mouth lingers inches from Stiles’ lips._ _

__“You drive me completely insane,” Derek breathes and he nuzzles into Stiles’ neck, scenting him._ _

__“Right back at you,” Stiles laughs._ _

__“I need to know... what is there between you and Lady Lydia?” Derek asks, mouth paused and open, lips pressed to Stiles’ neck._ _

__Stiles grabs him back by the hair to look at him incredulously._ _

__“You’re jealous,” Stiles says shocked._ _

__He’d suspected that was the reason for Derek’s unbecoming behaviour this evening but the idea of anyone being jealous over him was so ridiculous, if not faced with Derek right now, eyes blazing with jealousy, he may not have believed it._ _

“Just tell me if you have feelings for her. I know you want me, you’re attracted to me but... I understand that you might have got carried away when you came here to warn me. Emotions were running high, things were said. Things happened. I’ll have to accept it if you want her, if you want to be with her. Just put me out of my misery and tell me fast,” Derek whispers desperately, nose dragging up Stiles’ jugular, inhaling him. 

__Stiles shudders and he feels his pulse spike, half with arousal half with anger._ _

__He doesn’t enjoy watching Derek pitying himself. He doesn’t enjoy watching him driven to jealousy, so unsure of Stiles’ feelings._ _

“Is that what it meant to _you?_ Was it just _your_ emotions running high that made you act the way _you_ acted with me at the party?” Stiles challenges, using Derek’s own words against him.

__Derek growls and presses in even closer, leaving barely any space between them._ _

__“I don’t know how you can think for even a second that that’s what it was for me... You make me feel... I feel...” Derek whimpers._ _

__Stiles cups his face in his hands._ _

__“You’re an absolute fool, you know. Lydia, she is a friend. A great friend...” Stiles smiles shyly, thumbs rubbing over Derek’s jaw, “but that’s all she is.”_ _

__But it seems Derek isn’t done._ _

__“So you don’t want her? You don’t want to be with her? You’re not in love with her?” Derek asks, pinning Stiles with his intense stare and catching his wrists._ _

__“Lady Lydia is the very last person on my mind right now, I can assure you...” Stiles groans and to prove his point he grinds his hips pointedly into Derek’s._ _

__Derek’s eyes flash brilliant red and before Stiles can even take a breath, Derek has gripped him by the thighs and has hoisted him up._ _

__Stiles buries his face in Derek’s neck with a laugh and he locks his ankles around his waist._ _

__He glorifies in the fact that Derek keeps growling softly every time Stiles places a kiss at his neck._ _

__Derek moves quickly toward his bedroom and he kicks the door open without releasing Stiles at all._ _

__Derek allows him to stand when he’s shut the door but quickly presses him back into it with his body, mirroring the first time they’d been in here together, at the Hale House ball._ _

__Derek spends a moment just looking into Stiles’ eyes until Stiles can’t take the scrutiny any more._ _

__“Do I have something on my face?” Stiles scrunches his nose up, “you are staring...”_ _

__Derek does his little shy smile, the one where the corner of his mouth tugs up ever so imperceptibly. The one that Stiles is already hopelessly addicted to seeing._ _

__“No. I just quite enjoy looking at you...” Derek’s smile turns into a smirk._ _

__“Why?” Stiles asks, genuinely curious._ _

__“What do you mean? Is it not obvious?” Derek’s lips are now inches from Stiles’ own again._ _

__Stiles itches to close the space between them but he holds back, enjoying the pleasant hum of arousal between them._ _

__His body feels like it’s tuned into Derek’s every move, his skin tingling with anticipation._ _

__“Not really, no...” Stiles answers honestly._ _

__Derek frowns at him, aware he is not lying._ _

“How do you not know? You are quite beautiful...” Derek offers, blushing prettily, “I didn’t even see your face on our first meeting on the front lawns, before the party and still... The way you smelled to me, I don’t even think it would have mattered to me what you looked like, but when I saw you unmasked, your features took my breath away. Your cute nose, your freckles, the softest looking mouth, full pink lips... but even before you abandoned the mask, your eyes were where I lost myself. The richest brown, with the brightest gold flecks moving through them like molten lava. I’m still drowning in them now...”

Stiles’ mouth falls open at Derek’s words, never having been the attention and focus of such admiration.

Derek’s face is open, raw with honesty and very vulnerable.

__He averts his eyes when Stiles doesn’t speak, mistaking his stunned silence for rejection._ _

__Stiles curses Kate for making this amazing man doubt himself, even for a second._ _

__“I have said too much, assumed too much,” Derek whispers and Stiles’ heart breaks a little, because he knows what he has to do._ _

__He suspects Derek has strong feelings, possibly strong enough to mirror his own. But he needs to be the stronger person for Derek’s sake, so he bites down his own confession of love, knowing it would only further complicate the matter._ _

“Your words flatter me Derek. It’s you who is the beautiful one. You’re so brave and loyal. You should be crumbled into ashes with everything you have endured, but yet here you stand, strong and alive,” Stiles cups his face gently in his hands, “you could have anyone you like... you will meet someone of your station, someone noble I am sure of it. I am poor. I have no money. Scott, Isaac, Melissa and I will be living in a small house by the coast as soon as we can make those arrangements. You have your whole life here, your obligations to your wolves, your pack. Erica and Boyd need you... as does your sister Cora... I don’t belong here. I don’t ever want to feel like I am taking advantage of you, of your wealth... I can’t give you what you want Derek, as much as I want to,” Stiles tells him and he can feel tears spring at his eyes at the truth in his words.

__It stings but he knows he is right and before he does something stupid, like bed Derek, he feels like he owes him the truth at least._ _

__He was born into humble surroundings and as much as the past few years have been truly awful living with the Argents, he has had some happy times in Beacon Hills._ _

__He doesn’t have any grand delusions of living in mansions, throwing grand parties, he would never fit in. He wasn’t built for it._ _

__As much as he wishes he could stay, he won’t do that to Derek, he won’t rob him of a chance of real happiness._ _

__Derek growls softly and Stiles prepares himself for Derek to walk away from their conversation._ _

“What _can_ you give me?” Derek demands angrily, voice dangerously low, “because I’ll take whatever you can offer me Stiles, to keep you in my life for just a moment longer...”

__“Tonight...” Stiles knows he is making a ridiculous mistake but the word leaves his mouth as soon as he thinks it, one of his many flaws,”I can give you tonight...”_ _

__Derek crushes his lips to his immediately, as if he was waiting for any confirmation from Stiles._ _

__Stiles lets out a groan of approval as Derek fits his body up against his and he can feel Derek thick and hard pressing against his thigh._ _

__Derek drops to his knees frantically, shoving the shirt that Stiles is wearing up his abdomen, so he can have better access to his bare skin._ _

__Stiles curls a hand into Derek’s hair and he groans desperately when Derek licks a broad stripe down the strip of dark hair under Stiles’ naval._ _

__Derek lets his tongue trail lower, to the waistband of Stiles’ borrowed trousers. Derek buries his face in Stiles’ crotch and he inhales, growling out his approval._ _

__Stiles whimpers._ _

__“Has anyone put their mouth on you here before?” Derek’s pupils are blown when he looks up at Stiles from under his dark lashes._ _

__Stiles feels like all the blood is rushing lower, heat pooling in his belly._ _

__“No,” Stiles answers honestly, and he adds, “no one has touched me intimately, I am embarrassed to say... I have kissed a few boys and girls over the years, but nothing serious...”_ _

__“Why are you embarrassed?” Derek growls, “I shouldn’t be so pleased at your words, but I find myself ecstatic at that news.”_ _

__Derek tugs gently on the waistband of his trousers._ _

__“May I?” Derek fixates his eyes on Stiles’ crotch once again._ _

__Stiles swallows nervously, but he already knows that he more than trusts Derek. And he wants this with him, whatever Derek is offering, just for tonight._ _

__“Please...” Stiles whimpers._ _

__Derek unites the drawstring on his trousers and he peels them down Stiles’ thighs, leaving them pooled around his ankles._ _

__Derek growls, lip curling._ _

__“Your cock really is as lovely as the rest of you,” Derek sounds like he’s speaking on a slight lisp, and Stiles’ cock gives an interested twitch when he sees the edges of fangs protruding from Derek’s mouth._ _

__Stiles knows he’s been fairly blessed with length and girth, having seen the other boys while bathing, but he’s never had someone look at his cock like it’s something to be _devoured_ before._ _

__Derek clasps his hand around Stiles’ length and Stiles can see that despite his large hands, Derek can’t quite make his fingers meet around his thickness._ _

__Derek licks his lips, but he hesitates, looking up to Stiles once more._ _

__“I haven’t... I’ve only been with one person so I might not be good,” Derek whispers, “and it was Kate...”_ _

__“Derek, I’m fairly sure I’m so aroused right now, you could flick the tip of my cock and I’d shoot all over you,” Stiles pants._ _

__That earns him a delighted laugh from Derek and Stiles can see the tension go out of his broad shoulders._ _

__Stiles pulls him up to stand again for a brief moment._ _

__“Derek... listen to me. If... if this brings back unpleasant memories for you and you’d rather we just kiss, or lay in bed together, I’m more than fine with that. If I remind you of her... Derek, I’d never want to make you uncomfortable, or make you do anything that makes you unhappy,” Stiles says earnestly, attempting to pull his trousers back up._ _

“No,” Derek growls and grips his wrist, “you are _nothing_ like her, do not even think to compare yourself to her. I want to do this with you, if you’ll let me. You don’t make me feel _anything _like she made me feel. When I was with her, when her hands were on me, my whole body felt cold, numb even. In my mind, I was floating away from myself and watching myself with her, an unwilling participant. And you... you don’t even have to touch me and I feel like the opposite to that... it’s like I feel more alive than I’ve ever been, I feel like my blood is set alight when you so much as look at me, my body singing for you, needing to be closer to you, to touch you, not to be further away from you. I don’t think you could ever make me feel uncomfortable...”__

____

____

And so Stiles doesn’t blurt out his feelings and make promises that he can’t keep, words like _I’ll stay_ and _Don’t ever leave me_ on the tip of his tongue, he kisses Derek to silence himself as he unbuttons his own shirt.

____He lets it fall to the floor as Derek kisses his way down his body once again and he drops to his knees._ _ _ _

____This time, when he reaches Stiles’ bare cock, Derek licks a broad stripe up the underneath of it, earning him a whine from Stiles._ _ _ _

____Derek licks him until he is wet all over, then he experimentally takes Stiles into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around him._ _ _ _

____“Oh my heavens, I’ve died and ascended,” Stiles pants, afraid this is going to be over far too soon as he watches Derek build his confidence and begin to suck on him, like he’s lavishing on a candy cane._ _ _ _

____Derek looks like he’s possibly enjoying himself as much as Stiles, cheeks a ruddied red and lips glistening, mouth stretched obscenely around Stiles’ cock._ _ _ _

____He’s got a hand down his own trousers and he’s working himself to the same rhythm that he’s taking Stiles into his mouth at._ _ _ _

____Stiles feels his pleasure build at the sight, at the thought that sucking on him is enough to make Derek want to release himself and he tries to pull at Derek’s hair in warning._ _ _ _

____“I’m going to... oh for all that is holy, Derek please, I’m about to...” Stiles cries out._ _ _ _

____Stiles can see Derek’s frown at Stiles’ attempt to pull him off and instead, Derek uses his free hand to reach around Stiles, grip his left buttock hard and pull him toward him. It effectively pushes Stiles’ cock deep into his throat. Stiles is done for._ _ _ _

____Derek swallows around the intrusion, eyes watering as his throat flutters around the thick head of Stiles’ cock and he trails his hand even lower, fingers pressing between Stiles’ cheeks and feeling bluntly at his dry, tight hole._ _ _ _

____Stiles tenses at the unfamiliar feeling but Derek punctuates pressing the tip of his finger lightly onto his clenched opening with swallowing around Stiles’ cock. Stiles comes on a guttural moan, orgasm demanded from him by Derek, his body helpless but to oblige him._ _ _ _

____Derek swallows everything he has to offer, lapping at the tip as he softens and he stands up to kiss him, Stiles tasting himself in Derek’s mouth._ _ _ _

____Derek pins him to the door and it’s a good thing, as Stiles’ legs feel weak at the overload of stimulation and Derek tugs his own trousers down under his balls, as he rubs his bare cock against Stiles’ softening one._ _ _ _

____With a grunt of interest, Stiles looks down at the sight and he feels his cock give a valiant twitch._ _ _ _

Instead, he drags Derek to the edge of the bed, Stiles kicking off his trousers as he goes. The bed sheets are still rumpled from where he lay earlier. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s operating on pure instinct (with a little help of knowledge gained from a few dirty novellas that he’d found stashed in Lydia’s old room) and he feels an urge to put his mouth on Derek, to taste him all over.

____He lays on his back and Derek crawls up him, assuming Stiles is about to take him in hand._ _ _ _

____“Keep going, move right up,” Stiles says tapping Derek’s arms and he’s surprised at how rough his voice sounds._ _ _ _

____Derek doesn’t question him, face trusting, as he walks on his knees up to where Stiles’ head lay._ _ _ _

____“Put your knees either side of my head,” Stiles instructs, eyes darkening._ _ _ _

____Derek raises an eyebrow, but he does as he is told, and soon Stiles is faced with a close up view of Derek’s heavy balls and beautiful hard cock, sitting just above his face._ _ _ _

____Derek grips onto the headboard, body still, as if waiting for Stiles’ next instruction._ _ _ _

____Stiles palms both of Derek’s cheeks and digs his fingers gently into the muscle, massaging him._ _ _ _

____Derek pushes back into his touch with a groan, body arching beautifully above Stiles._ _ _ _

____When Derek looks down at Stiles and their eyes lock, Stiles realises that he wants to take Derek apart. If they only have the one chance to do this, he’s going to make sure Derek never forgets him._ _ _ _

____He tongues over Derek’s balls, then shimmy’s a little further down the bed, so he can get lower._ _ _ _

____Pulling Derek’s cheeks apart, he licks a broad stripe over his furred hole. The noise Derek makes is feral and the headboard creaks ominously under his grip, so Stiles, encouraged, does it again._ _ _ _

____He holds Derek open, perched and sitting on his face as he sucks and licks at Derek’s entrance, until Derek is rocking back and forth into his tongue desperately, broken noises coming out of his mouth, supporting himself just so Stiles’ can breathe._ _ _ _

____It feels filthy in the best kind of way and it’s horribly inappropriate considering they have not long been acquainted but it’s making Stiles’ cock rock hard all over again, so he definitely doesn’t care enough to stop._ _ _ _

____“Fuck... Stiles, where did you even learn about... oh my gods, your mouth,” Derek grunts as Stiles manages to press his clever tongue into Derek’s hole, over and over, licking him open._ _ _ _

____Stiles feels even braver at the fact that he’s making Derek curse, so he slips the tip of his finger in alongside his tongue, right into Derek’s wet entrance._ _ _ _

____Derek’s whole body seizes up, hole clenching and Derek pulls off his face rapidly. Stiles manages to look up in time to see Derek grip himself tightly in his hand and his cock pulses all over Stiles’ face, coating his mouth and neck with his release._ _ _ _

____Derek collapses with a grunt to the side of him on his back, chest heaving._ _ _ _

____Stiles licks his lips, and touches his neck, wet with Derek’s seed._ _ _ _

____“That... was amazing,” Stiles flips onto his side to look at Derek._ _ _ _

____Derek turns to look at him, a slightly dazed look on his face._ _ _ _

____Derek thumbs the corner of his mouth and he trails a hand through the mess he has made on Stiles’ neck, rubbing it all over his skin._ _ _ _

____“Are you marking me?” Stiles asks, eyes bright._ _ _ _

____He shouldn’t be so delighted at the thought._ _ _ _

____“Yes,” Derek’s voice is raw, “you have no idea what you look like right now...”_ _ _ _

____“Hopefully, I look like someone you might want to try putting your cock into,” Stiles quips, filter all but erased._ _ _ _

____“You have the face of an angel, but the mouth of the devil you know,” Derek rolls onto his side and he pulls Stiles to him, bodies pressed front to front._ _ _ _

____Derek kisses him gently, unhurried._ _ _ _

____Like they have their whole lives to do this, rather than just tonight._ _ _ _

____“You were turning the air blue with some cursing of your own just a few moments ago,” Stiles smiles into Derek’s mouth._ _ _ _

____Derek smacks him lightly on the rump as he nuzzles into his neck, biting at the skin._ _ _ _

____Stiles tilts his neck back, giving him better access as Derek rolls him onto his back and covers Stiles’ body with his own._ _ _ _

“You’ll have to excuse me, I couldn’t think straight, someone had their tongue _inside_ my backside,” Derek grins and Stiles loves their easy rapport.

____“I did not hear you complaining,” Stiles giggles._ _ _ _

____“Well no, you wouldn’t have, because it felt so damned good,” Derek smiles, biting up Stiles’ jawline._ _ _ _

____“You enjoyed it then?” Stiles asks, suddenly bashful._ _ _ _

____“I’ll do it to you next, shall I, see for yourself...” Derek growls playfully and he topples Stiles over, so Stiles is laying on his front._ _ _ _

____Derek kisses down his spine and places a hand on each of Stiles’ cheeks and he pulls him open, exposing him to the air._ _ _ _

____Derek sucks in a breath at the sight of Stiles’ tight, pink hole and he just stares, captivated, until Stiles wriggles against his hold._ _ _ _

____“Derek, do something,” Stiles whimpers desperately, “do anything... preferably, have your wicked way with me as many times as possible before I need to leave this bed... you can put your tongue in me later, I want your cock.”_ _ _ _

____Derek lets out a low growl as he is reminded about Stiles leaving him and it unleashes something more feral in him, an urge to prove himself evident._ _ _ _

____He is hit with the possessive urge to ruin him for anyone else, to carve a permanent space for himself in Stiles’ body, in a way that will mean Stiles won’t ever forget him._ _ _ _

____He wants to give Stiles such pleasure that he never wants to leave, but he knows that is an impossible task._ _ _ _

____But he can try._ _ _ _

____Derek licks his own hand and he sits between Stiles’ long legs, pushing one of his knees up and to the side._ _ _ _

____The position holds Stiles wide open for him, allowing him access when he brings a wet finger to tease at his hole._ _ _ _

____Stiles grunts into the sheets at his touch, hips rocking back to meet him and it’s not long before Derek’s finger slips inside him, entrance impossibly tight._ _ _ _

____Derek pulls away, ignoring Stiles’ groan of frustration and he reaches for his bedside table. He wrenches the drawer clear off it’s hinges in his haste._ _ _ _

____Derek grips a half full bottle containing a clear liquid, triumphant._ _ _ _

____“What are you looking for?” Stiles complains, “Derek, I want you inside of me...”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t want to hurt you,” Derek explains softly as he uncaps the bottle, “it’s an oil... To ease the way...”_ _ _ _

____Derek coats his fingers and he brings them back to Stiles’ hole, his cock filling impossibly fast once again at the sight of Stiles stretching around him. He presses two fingers in slowly._ _ _ _

____“That feels incredible,” Stiles groans, “why do you have that? I thought you said you’d never been with a man...”_ _ _ _

____Derek chuckles at the scent coming off Stiles, jealously souring his arousal._ _ _ _

____“I haven’t. I use it when I take myself in hand sometimes...” Derek presses a third finger at his entrance, which elicits a guttural whine from Stiles._ _ _ _

____“Now I’m picturing you doing that to yourself, I’m going to ruin your sheets I think,” Stiles complains, rolling his hips downwards._ _ _ _

____It’s not long before Stiles is rocking back onto his fingers, impatient._ _ _ _

____“Not this time... I want you to come when I’m inside of you,” Derek allows a little of his alpha authority to bleed into his tone._ _ _ _

____Stiles whimpers._ _ _ _

____“Ok, yes... yes let’s do that,” Stiles says on a moan._ _ _ _

____Derek pulls back and he coats his cock liberally in the oil and he rubs himself on Stiles’ stretched entrance._ _ _ _

____“Oh my gods, yes,” Stiles wriggles his hips back, getting up on his knees, face down in the sheets._ _ _ _

____Derek places a hand at his hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, as he edges inside Stiles’ tight heat._ _ _ _

____When the head of Derek’s large cock breaches him, Stiles lets out a cry of surprise at the feeling of fullness. Derek stills, stroking over his sides soothingly and he leans over him, protective._ _ _ _

____He waits until Stiles moves and he scents the back of his neck to make sure he’s not in any pain._ _ _ _

____Stiles smells a little bit nervous and excited, but no there’s no pain as yet._ _ _ _

____“I’m... it’s just intense, you feel so large inside me... I’m ok now, keep going,” Stiles whispers, body unclenching._ _ _ _

____Derek rocks his hips gently, sinking another few inches inside him and this time, Stiles lets out a noise of pleasure._ _ _ _

____Derek grunts in return, control slipping at the feel of Stiles squeezing tightly around him, the scent of his arousal everywhere._ _ _ _

____Derek pushes slowly with the last of his restraint, until he’s seated fully inside of Stiles, pressed right up against his backside._ _ _ _

____Derek feels the urge to spill inside him building rapidly, heat dragging up from his toes._ _ _ _

____He’s never felt pleasure like it, being with Stiles, being trusted with his body and he feels like his heart is being ripped out with the thought that he might never get to experience this again._ _ _ _

____He tries to remain still as possible until the overwhelming feeling subsides, but Stiles has other ideas and he presses back into him._ _ _ _

____“Move Derek, I need you to move. _Please_ move,” Stiles begs desperately._ _ _ _

____“I can’t,” Derek grunts, “You’re impossibly tight, you feel so good... I fear I will end this too soon.”_ _ _ _

____Stiles lets out a broken sob when Derek pulls back a little despite himself and he buries himself again with a rough thrust._ _ _ _

____“We can do it again tonight. I’ll do it to you in fact... Derek, just... I need you,” Stiles whines and Derek is helpless but to give him what he asks for._ _ _ _

____Derek pulls out and flips him onto his back. He holds Stiles’ knees open as he works his way back inside him._ _ _ _

____Stiles eyes are glistening, mouth open in wonder as Derek leans down when he’s fully inside him and he kisses him._ _ _ _

____It’s both better this way, as Derek can see his reactions, but so much worse, because it feels like a stone in his gut that he gets to have this, but not to keep._ _ _ _

____Derek rocks his hips into him relentlessly, hands placed on the mattress either side of Stiles’ head to support himself and their eyes never leave each other as Derek buries his cock into him, over and over._ _ _ _

____Stiles tries to get a hand between them but Derek shakes his head and bites on his lip._ _ _ _

____“No,” Derek breathes into his mouth, “I need you to release, untouched, just with me inside you... you can do it Stiles.”_ _ _ _

____Stiles throws his head back._ _ _ _

____“Harder then Derek... make it so I can’t remember my own name tomorrow,” Stiles locks his ankles around Derek’s waist._ _ _ _

____Derek sits back on his heels and he holds him open. He gives in to his instincts and pounds into him, revelling in watching his cock disappear in and out of Stiles body, torn between watching that or Stiles’ face, which is ablaze with what he’s feeling._ _ _ _

____“There!” Stiles cries out loud when Derek grinds deep into him, “oh... oh there...”_ _ _ _

____Derek gets to watch as Stiles’ cock spurts hard, completely untouched, all over his abdomen, even hitting himself in the chin._ _ _ _

____Derek feels Stiles’ hole clamp down hard on him as he orgasms and Derek’s done for, the smell of Stiles’ pleasure overwhelming him._ _ _ _

____Derek buries himself as deep as he can get._ _ _ _

____He bends Stiles’ legs up so he can lean over him and he presses his forehead to Stiles’ as he pulses deep inside him, arms giving out and collapsing onto Stiles when he’s done._ _ _ _

____Derek doesn’t pull out for long minutes and Stiles strokes his hands up and down his back, as his cock softens inside him._ _ _ _

____Derek finally moves away a little to give Stiles some space and he lays on his back, eyes on the ceiling._ _ _ _

____Stiles lays there for a few seconds trying to process what just happened, because he feels like he’s just had a life affirming experience._ _ _ _

____Stiles had thought that having Derek intimately might be a way to say goodbye, to get his feelings out of his system so he could go back to feeling like he did before he met Derek in the first place._ _ _ _

____He’s beginning to feel like a fool, like he’s made a grave mistake._ _ _ _

____He looks over at Derek laying out naked on his back, muscled torso rising and falling softly and his face appears as dazed as Stiles knows his own must be. Stiles feels a pang in his chest, so painful he actually rubs at the spot._ _ _ _

____He’s in love with Derek. And he can’t stay with him._ _ _ _

____“What are you thinking about?” Derek’s soft voice breaks his silent reverie and he tugs Stiles under his arm, so that Stiles’ head is resting on his chest._ _ _ _

____“You,” Stiles answers honestly, letting his fingers stroke over Derek’s nipples and down his stomach, pleased with the way he shivers under his touch._ _ _ _

____“That tickles. Why are you thinking about me?” Derek asks the top of Stiles’ head, fingers trialing up and down Stiles’ arm._ _ _ _

____“I have to go... Derek. I have to leave...” Stiles feels tears threaten to fall, but he won’t abandon his family to their new life without him, not like his father did to him._ _ _ _

____They need him. He won’t leave them. Not even for love._ _ _ _

____Derek hums and Stiles feels the vibration of Derek’s chest under his ear._ _ _ _

____“Maybe that’s tomorrow’s problem,” Derek says softly, breath tickling Stiles’ hair._ _ _ _

____Stiles closes his eyes and he places a soft kiss to Derek’s chest._ _ _ _

____“Ok...” Stiles says weakly._ _ _ _

____“Go to sleep Stiles,” Derek continues stroking him, lulling him._ _ _ _

____The last thing he feels is Derek pressing a tender kiss to the top of his head._ _ _ _

____ _ _

——————

Stiles dreams of Derek.

____He knows he’s in a dream, because everything feels like he’s moving in slow motion, like when you dream about swinging a punch and you can’t make it connect, no matter how hard you try._ _ _ _

____When Stiles was a child, right after his mother passed and he still lived with his father, he used to wake up sobbing from dreams about her, thinking she was still alive; he’d wake up and run around their home looking for her, inconsolable, not comprehending how she was alive one moment, then gone the next._ _ _ _

____He recalls scratchy memories of his father having to explain what dreams were to him, trying to calm him. He remembers John tucking him back into bed and telling him that when he wakes, he should count his fingers to know if he’s still dreaming- you always have extra fingers in dreams- and if he was awake, he’d know she was gone and he wouldn’t have to look for her, he could just seek out his father instead._ _ _ _

____It also helped Stiles wake up, if those dreams turned to nightmares. He’d just count his fingers and know he was asleep._ _ _ _

____It helped him a lot, mind really too young to understand the concept of dreaming, but helping him process it all the same._ _ _ _

____He counts his fingers in this dream, as he always does and he wiggles his hands in front of his face._ _ _ _

____Six on each hand. Dream._ _ _ _

____He’s standing in another field, but this time beautiful wild flowers are growing up to his knees, purple corn-cockles and sprays of giant white daisies covering every inch of the ground._ _ _ _

____It’s raining softly, the sky a livid grey and fat drops of water catch on the leaves surrounding him, but somehow, he’s not getting wet._ _ _ _

____He gets the sense that he’s alone and he calls out for Melissa, Scott, Issac then Lydia but no-one comes._ _ _ _

____He sits down despondent on the damp soil and his fingers dig into the dirt, grounding him as he looks toward the sky._ _ _ _

____A loud crack of thunder sounds and the sky lights up with electricity. A storm is coming._ _ _ _

____Stiles shivers, cold, despite the rain not touching him and he looks back down when he hears a rustle in front of him._ _ _ _

____He startles, finding himself eye to eye with a huge black wolf with bright blue eyes. It’s sitting on its hind paws right in front of him._ _ _ _

____No rain touches the wolf either._ _ _ _

____Stiles belatedly thinks that he should be afraid but the wolf lays down and belly crawls toward him, inching until his great shaggy head is situated under Stiles’ arm._ _ _ _

____Stiles curls his body around the wolf, seeking out his warmth and the wolf rumbles his approval._ _ _ _

____He suddenly feels less alone._ _ _ _

____After long moments, the wolf begins to stand but Stiles threads his fingers into his fur, hugging him._ _ _ _

____He doesn’t want him to leave._ _ _ _

____He looks to the wolf, meaning to thank him, to tell him not to go but the wolf’s eyes change in front of him, glowing a brilliant red._ _ _ _

Derek

______Stiles lets out a gasp._ _ _ _ _ _

He wakes up with a start and he hears the very real crack of thunder outside, realising that the sound has permeated his dream.

______“Hmm,” real Derek grumbles his protest at Stiles’ movements._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles is wrapped around him laying on his side, still in Derek’s bed, Derek’s back pressed to Stiles’ front._ _ _ _ _ _

______Neither of them are wearing any clothes._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles relaxes when he realises where he is and he shakes off the remnants of his dream._ _ _ _ _ _

______He sinks into the comfort that Derek offers, pressing his face into the back of Derek’s neck._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles realises his cock is nestled in the cleft of Derek’s backside and he’s growing harder every time Derek shifts back against him._ _ _ _ _ _

He knows he should leave, having promised Derek only the night, escape before the sun rises but he can’t bring himself to get up.

______He squeezes his arms tighter around Derek’s chest instead, pinning him in place and he deliberately presses his length into the flesh of Derek’s backside, revelling in the little moan of pleasure that Derek gives, barely awake._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Stiles?” Derek murmurs, his voice heavy with sleep, hand reaching back and gripping Stiles’ thigh, pressing them harder together._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Of course it’s me. Were you hoping to wake up with another in your bed?” Stiles mumbles softly and times another slow roll of his hips with a nibble on Derek’s ear._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek grunts and presses back harder into him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, that depends on if you’re going to finish what you’ve obviously begun without me,” Derek grumbles._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles laughs but it gets choked off when Derek reaches back and pulls his own cheeks apart and on the next stroke, Stiles’ cock rubs over Derek’s opening. It’s still a little relaxed from the attentions of Stiles’ mouth earlier on in the night._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nnnnngh,” Stiles grunts intelligently._ _ _ _ _ _

______He can feel Derek’s silent chuckle by the movement of his chest and he already knows he’ll be doing that shy private smile, the one he does when he makes Stiles lose his mind._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What do you want?” Stiles places wet, open mouthed kisses up the back of Derek’s neck, sucking on the skin there._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I want you to mark me Stiles. Make me yours,” Derek whispers, as if confessing a secret._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles reaches over him, grabbing the nearly empty vial from the bedside table._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes... yes, I want that,” Stiles knows he’s playing a dangerous game giving himself over so completely to Derek and he doesn’t just mean in body._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles backs up a little and he circles Derek’s hole with his now oiled fingers and and he presses one inside him, trying to slow himself down, the urge to be inside him all consuming._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek moans and he presses back onto his hand eagerly._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Another,” Derek groans, “I’ve done this to myself with three only last week, give me another.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Gods you’re demanding,” Stiles growls but he does as Derek asks and this time it’s a much tighter fit._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek lets out a contented bone deep sigh, as if this, Stiles’ fingers, slick and moving inside him is all he’s ever wanted._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles gives him a third before he can ask and Derek balls his hands in the sheets in front of them, biting the material._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles slicks his cock with the oil. His tip is already leaking all over Derek’s flesh, so he tries to handle himself as little as possible for fear he might spill before he’s even seated inside him._ _ _ _ _ _

______He holds Derek’s leg up as he pushes inside him in one slow and deep stroke._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek’s got a death grip on Stiles’ arm, where he’s pinning him to his chest and Stiles tries to catch his breath._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek lets out a broken little whimper._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you ok? Are you unsure, because I can stop?” Stiles asks him, gritting his teeth against the hot, tight pleasure of Derek around him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I am scared,” Derek whimpers, “of the depth of my feelings for you, because every time I think I have a handle on them, that they have peaked, they get impossibly stronger.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Derek...” Stiles begins but he is cut short._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek rolls his hips back hard onto Stiles’ length and Stiles lets out a choked gasp._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek groans in pleasure and Stiles takes it as his cue._ _ _ _ _ _

______He doesn’t let Derek set the pace, despite his demands to move faster._ _ _ _ _ _

______He savours every second instead, the slow drag of his cock catching on Derek’s rim over and over as he holds him in place as he fucks in and out of his body._ _ _ _ _ _

______It feels like it goes on for both mere moments and days simultaneously, a perfect torture._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek’s pleading by the time Stiles feels his own orgasm building in his gut._ _ _ _ _ _

______He places a hand flat against Derek’s abdomen, moving it down into his neat thatch of black hair and he wraps a hand around Derek’s cock._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek growls in approval as Stiles starts working him slowly in time with his strokes, hand still slick from the oil._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Let go for me Derek,” Stiles groans desperately into his ear and he sinks his teeth roughly into the skin at Derek’s shoulder, biting him._ _ _ _ _ _

______He grips Derek’s cock harder and Derek thrusts into his hand desperately chasing his release._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Let go for me so I can claim you,” Stiles says roughly._ _ _ _ _ _

______Like he’s a slave to Stiles’ words, Derek tenses and he lets out a cry as he comes all over Stiles’ hand. Stiles follows him over the edge, impossibly in sync with him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles buries himself deep, hips rocking and cock pulsing hotly, until he’s fully spent and he pulls himself out._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek rolls over so he’s facing him and he kisses him chastely, pulling back to allow them both some room._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek doesn’t let go of his hand._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I love you...” Derek offers quietly, eyes glistening, voice breaking on the words._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles pulls him closer._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I know. I love you too...” Stiles tells him, and it’s the most easy and truest thing he’s ever said._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Then stay. I’ll never forgive myself for not asking... stay here, with me,” Derek strokes his jaw tenderly, “your family too... you don’t have to go...”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I want to... but I can’t. This doesn’t change anything Derek. You have your status, your house to upkeep and I need to make sure my family are safe and well... I’d tell you to visit us, the coast can only be a four hours ride at most, but I don’t want that for you. I don’t want to keep you hanging on to this impossible idea of us. You will meet someone of your own standing and you will forget all about me,” Stiles realises he’s crying, silent wet tears sliding down his face, “that’s what I want for you. I don’t want you to have to give up anything else, you’ve lost so much already. You can be happy here... Please, don’t make me talk about it anymore, it’s too painful... I can’t stay here, I do not belong.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek looks at him strangely and Stiles expects an argument, expects him to make this harder._ _ _ _ _ _

______“If you had met me in a different lifetime, if I wasn’t tied to my land, my wealth, my family and pack, would you want to be with me?” Derek asks him instead, voice steady._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles frowns at the ridiculous question._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you Derek. I want _more_ for you. More than I can offer, and I know you think right now that you don’t need the titles and the wealth but I won’t be the person to take anything else from you. I’d never be able to live with myself,” Stiles frowns._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek smiles at him suddenly and Stiles wonders why he’s so happy._ _ _ _ _ _

______This whole thing is one big tragedy._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ok then,” Derek nods and he gets up._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ok? That’s it? No arguments?” Stiles frowns confused._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nope. You seem to have made up your mind for the both of us. As you, said, circumstances mean we are not destined not to be together right now,” Derek says, but his words aren’t cruel, they are just factual._ _ _ _ _ _

______In fact he appears to be quite cheery._ _ _ _ _ _

______It irritates Stiles immensely._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Where are you going?” He asks as Derek pulls on his trousers._ _ _ _ _ _

______“To fetch us some breakfast. I figure if you’re determined to leave my bed and never come back, I should keep you in it as long as I can. Don’t move,” Derek points at him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles chuckles despite himself._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What an ingenious plan,” Stiles smiles._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek grins at him and leans over to press a soft kiss to his mouth._ _ _ _ _ _

______It always steals Stiles’ breath at how striking he is when he’s happy. Stiles feels like his heart is breaking._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek leaves but quickly returns with fresh orange juice, a platter of rolls and meats and various chopped fruits, some of which Stiles doesn’t even recognise._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek shrugs off his trousers and climbs back into bed in the nude and they eat and talk until sunrise._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles is surprised at how easy it is between them. He supposes when you’ve declared everything to someone, no secrets, like they have done, there is nothing you can’t really open up to each other about._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek tells Stiles all about his other sister Laura and he entertains him with tales of their youth, of how Cora and Laura used to team up and play tricks on him, much to Derek’s chagrin._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek confesses guiltily to how he’s glad that Peter probably killed Kate and he’s even more glad that his Uncle is gone now too. Derek shares that he wanted his Uncle to find his peace, whatever that looked like and Derek tells Stiles how Peter hadn’t been the same since the fire, how much crueller he’d been, how hateful._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles finds himself tumbling into the sad story of his father and mother and Derek stays silent as he pours his heart out, just listening and holding his hand._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles has never even told Scott this much about it all._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So that’s it, that’s my tragic story... I know he loved me once and I’ve often wondered if I should try to find him, but I don’t know... I’m afraid. Afraid he won’t want me,” Stiles confesses quietly._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s hard to imagine that,” Derek finally speaks, “One thing I don’t understand, did Melissa and Scott adopt your fathers name, when they adopted you too? Is that why you’re called Stiles McCall too and you share your surname, even though you aren’t related by blood?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh! No, I’m sorry, I should have made that clearer, my surname isn’t actually the same as Melissa and Scott’s. We are not brothers by blood, obviously, but we are brothers by choice. I kept my father’s name, I’m not sure why. I am Stiles Stillinski, and Scott and Melissa are McCalls,” Stiles clarifies._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek chokes on a piece of melon and Stiles has to smack him on the back to help him clear his airway._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Your... your father was named Stillinski? And you are Stiles Stillinski?” Derek clarifies._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes. Come on, it’s not that hideous is it? Melissa says my father’s name was John. My surname is a mouthful, I know. My birth name is actually Mieczyslaw Stillinski. I’ve no idea what I did to deserve that monstrosity. Stiles is a nickname because I could not say my own name as a child,” Stiles laughs._ _ _ _ _ _

______For the first time in his life, talking about his father isn’t causing him pain._ _ _ _ _ _

______In fact, he feels safe and loved, Derek stroking circles over the back of his hand._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Right...” Derek says, but Stiles sees he’s lost his attention._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek’s staring off out the window, as if he’s putting the pieces together of a giant puzzle._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Derek, is everything ok?” Stiles asks._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hmm?” Derek brings his attention back to him, “Yes. Yes of course. Everything’s fine.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“The sun is rising. I think the storm has passed,” Stiles comments lightly, “I should get up soon, Melissa and I have some arrangements to make.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek pins him with a look._ _ _ _ _ _

______They both know that when Stiles leaves his bed, the spell will be broken. They won’t be protected from all the factors keeping them apart, they will have to face into their lives._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek pushes him down and lays on top of him, eyebrows pulled down in an unhappy frown._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You can’t keep me here forever sourwolf,” Stiles chuckles, pressing a kiss to Derek’s mouth._ _ _ _ _ _

“I can try,” Derek growls playfully and he nips him on the neck.

Derek falls soundly asleep after he makes love to Stiles once again; this time, Derek had kept their hands entwined and their foreheads pressed together as they moved slowly with each other, inching each other to climax. Stiles had finally fallen apart with Derek’s name on his lips.

Stiles gathers up his things like a coward and he leaves Derek alone, tangled in his sheets.

—————


	5. I want much more than this provincial life...

—————

Stiles thinks the week will be impossibly hard, sharing the house with Derek, but he barely sees him at all.

Lydia instead sticks to his side for a few days before she announces she has to take her leave and head back to Jackson and her parents.

She leaves only after Stiles promises this time he will write her every week. Stiles can’t deny that he is glad to have her back in his life.

Derek leaves the house early every morning before Stiles rises and he comes back late, usually long after Stiles has retired to bed.

Derek insisted Stiles stay in his bedroom, so Stiles has no idea where Derek has been sleeping. 

Stiles had caught a glimpse of him saddling his horse this morning and judging by the dark rings under his eyes, Stiles suspects that maybe Derek hasn’t been sleeping at all.

Melissa corners Stiles as he makes his way back into the house, Stiles half furious that Derek had just ridden away before allowing Stiles to speak.

“Stiles! Come sit with Isaac, Scott and myself. We have news,” Melissa tells him.

Stiles joins his family in a room with large comfy chairs and Scott rises to give him a hug when he sees him.

He wrinkles his nose comically.

“You absolutely _reek_ of Derek,” Scott accuses.

Stiles feels his cheeks flush.

“I had a bath this morning!” Stiles shoots back.

“Well you didn’t scrub hard enough! His scent is all over you. I can certainly tell you’ve been in his bed,” Scott growls, eyes flashing red.

“What does it matter?” Stiles grumps.

“It matters because it doesn’t smell just like you’ve been sleeping where he sleeps, you smell like you _belong_ to him. I don’t like it,” Scott rubs his hand on Stiles’ neck.

“Hey! Unhand me Scott, I don’t belong to any one of you. Stupid wolves and their alpha posturing,” Stiles squawks indignantly and he ducks away from Scott’s hold.

Isaac chuckles from where he’s watching them from in the corner and he wraps a heavy wool scarf around his neck.

“Well that is positively hideous, where did you find that?” Stiles comments.

Isaac sticks his tongue out at him.

“Cora knitted it for me... I quite like it,” Isaac turns his nose up at Stiles.

“Sit down,” Melissa indicates to the two empty chairs, “I have some good news.”

Stiles and Scott take their seats and Scott shuffles his chair closer to Stiles. 

Stiles shuffles his chair a few inches in the opposite direction, just to be annoying.

“I’ve made a decision on a house. Near the coast, like we talked about. It’s situated in a coastal town called Beacon Rockport. Allison is kindly bringing the rest of our things here tonight, with her father. I haven’t seen it for myself, but Erica and Boyd rode down yesterday to see it for us and they’ve made arrangements. I didn’t want to tell you all before I’d made a final decision. I didn’t want to get your hopes up. We can nearly afford it on our own and Christopher Argent has kindly offered me quite a handsome severance payment, part reparation for what we had to endure at his father and sister’s hands,” Melissa tells them, “the house is attached to a small working farm. The previous owners grew fruit and vegetables and sold them at a local market every week, so I’m told. They’ve retired now and they wanted a smaller home, nearer their grandchildren inland. They have left us all the tools to continue with their business should we wish...”

Stiles grins. It sounds perfect, everything they’d ever wanted. They’d not have to rely on anyone.

But his face falls when he thinks about leaving Derek.

“That’s great,” Scott claims and he stands and kisses his mother’s cheek.

“When do we leave?” Isaac asks, looking a little unwell all of a sudden, fingers clasped tightly in his ugly green scarf.

Stiles frowns at him, wondering what’s gotten into him. Isaac used to stay up late when they were at Beacon Manor sharing his of fantasy’s about what he thought their new life would be like.

Stiles would have thought that Isaac would be most excited out of all of them to begin their next stage of their lives. 

Although, he has noticed that Isaac has been spending a lot of time with Cora, now he thinks about it. Could it be possible...

“Tomorrow morning. Christopher and Allison are staying here tonight and they are bringing their carriage with our things, like I said. They will help us make the trip in the morning,” Melissa grins at them, “so gather up your things and say your goodbyes. The Hales, Erica and Boyd may visit from time to time, but it is quite a way, so don’t expect to see them too often.”

Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat.

Isaac and Scott leave the room but as Stiles goes to exit, Melissa takes him by the elbow.

“Stiles... you know that I love you very much, yes? Like my own son...” She asks softly.

“Of course I do... why do you ask?” Stiles frowns at her.

“Only... and do not be offended but... if you want to stay here... we will understand...” Melissa tells him and Stiles sees tears well up in her eyes, “you will always be my son... but you don’t owe us anything. If you seek happiness elsewhere, that’s ok... you deserve to be happy too.” 

Stiles grabs her into a tight hug and he strokes her hair.

“I am so lucky to have you in my life Melissa, I can’t ever repay what you have done for me. I’m coming with you. It’s never been in doubt. Besides, who will help you keep my unruly brothers in check if I don’t go!” Stiles swipes at his eyes and he chuckles.

“That’s true,” Melissa chuckles, “I just wanted you to know... I just don’t want you to make a mistake. Derek looks at you like you personally hung the moon and sprinkled the stars in the night sky. I fear this separation might hurt you both very much...”

“Derek and I, we are not meant to be. We were born worlds apart, as hard as it is to admit. I belong with you, Scott and Isaac,” Stiles nods, as if saying it out loud will make it true.

“Ok... I’m just letting you know, we’d be ok...” Melissa re-affirms.

“Ok... and I’m telling you, I’m coming. Let’s speak no more of it. Now, let’s go pack our things,” Stiles attempts a false bravado.

Melissa shakes her head sadly, as if she can see right into his splintering heart.

——————

Later that night he searches for Derek and he finds him in the old part of the house, sitting in a comfy looking, brown worn leather armchair, reading.

“Good book?” Stiles says as he enters but Derek doesn’t look up.

“It’s ok...” Derek comments casually, eyes still on his pages.

So this is how it’s going to be. 

Stiles knew it wouldn’t take Derek very long to get over him, his theory was correct. He should be pleased at being right, so why does it hurt so much?

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” Stiles offers.

“I know,” Derek replies and he turns his page.

Stiles feels anger flare in his belly. 

He comes to stand directly in front of Derek.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” Stiles frowns at him.

“Goodbye,” Derek says, still not looking at him.

“Do you know what Derek, fuck you. I thought you understood, but clearly not,” Stiles growls.

Derek is on his feet, rage on his face. 

He’s balled his hands into tight fists and Stiles can see blood drip down where his claws are digging into the skin of his palms.

Stiles’ heartbeat races but Derek doesn’t soften, he just walks him backwards, so that Stiles is forced back into the wall, a common position for them.

“What do you want me to say Stiles?” Derek growls, face shifting, letting the wolf come out.

Stiles isn’t afraid of him. 

He could never be afraid of Derek. Stiles growls back at him in return.

“I don’t know! I don’t know what I want you to say,” Stiles fists a hand in Derek’s shirt, completely exasperated.

“Do you want me to tell you that I love you? Do you want me to tell you not to leave? Because I’ve done that and you still need to go... I do understand, I promise, but don’t ask me to pretend to be happy about it, because inside I feel like my heart is being ripped out, at the very thought of being separated from you,” Derek says brokenly, voice breaking.

Stiles grabs him into a tight embrace and Derek’s body sags into his, Derek’s face buried in his neck, dragging in ragged breaths.

“You’ve avoided me all week... we could have at least spent that time together,” Stiles complains, selfishly.

“You disappeared on me, the morning after we made love. I thought you didn’t want me to make it any harder by pursuing you. And I had something to attend to this week, something important that dragged me away from the house...” Derek trails off, snapping his mouth shut.

“What, more important than me?” Stiles tries out a joke, but it comes out a little too flat, voice serious.

Derek pins him with a hard look.

“No,” Derek answers quietly, eyes burning into Stiles’, “there is nothing more important to me than you...”

Stiles feels his own tears threaten to spill.

“You’ll thank me for this eventually... I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you will... I’m sorry Derek,” Stiles whispers as he strokes his back tenderly.

Derek pulls back and his face goes carefully blank.

“Yes. I’m sorry too,” Derek says finally.

He leaves Stiles pressed against the wall, bereft and empty.

——————

Derek doesn’t arrive with the others in the morning to say his goodbyes and Stiles tries to keep a brave face for the others.

Cora, Boyd and Erica hug each of them in turn.

Allison and Christopher help Scott load their belongings into the carriage, adding to what they’d brought for them from Beacon Manor.

Scott tells Stiles that Allison and Christopher are intending to stay at Beacon Manor and honestly, Stiles is glad. Although the past few years held some unhappy memories there, that house was his home for a long time.

It deserves to be taken care of and Allison and Christopher seem like the right people to do just that.

Allison has ridden Ash today and he and Mountain stand proudly side by side. They look identical save for Mountain’s left ear bends back, they could be twins, not just brothers.

Stiles sees Allison has brought Juliet along with them and that she’s tethered to a tree. Stiles strokes her flank and she nuzzles him happily.

“I brought her for you. Not just to ride, but to keep,” Allison sneaks up behind him.

“What?!” Stiles can’t possibly accept Juliet as a gift.

“She’s your horse anyway Stiles. She never looks as comfortable or as happy as when you’re talking with her or riding her,” Allison smiles.

“I... thank you. I’ll take good care of her. The best care, wont I girl?” Stiles scratches Juliet’s nose and she snorts into his hand.

“I think she knows you will,” Allison laughs, “come on. Father has finished loading the carriage up. I think we’re almost ready to leave.”

Stiles unties Juliet and he mounts her easily, settling into her saddle. He walks her over to where the others are waiting.

“We shall see you very soon Stiles,” Erica leans up to swat him hard on the leg and she smiles wolfishly at him.

“As much as I would like to believe that Erica, I fear you won’t. The new house is almost four hours ride from here,” Stiles smiles sadly.

“Sometimes you have to just have a little faith,” Erica winks at him and he can’t help but grin at her.

“I wish I shared your optimism. Will you tell Derek I said goodbye?” Stiles asks, face pulling down into a deep frown.

“I’ll tell you the same exact same thing I told him, when he asked me to say the same to you... pull your head out of your posterior and go tell him yourself,” Erica sticks her tongue out.

Stiles laughs and wipes at his tears. He’s going to miss them all so much. Curse him for getting so attached in such a short space of time.

“Right, we are ready to leave,” Christopher calls, then he adds cryptically “Cora... Allison and I will be back in two weeks time to aid you and Derek in the matter we discussed last night.”

“That would be great, we really appreciate it,” Cora tells him, giving him a little wave,

Allison gives Cora a quick hug and Stiles is pleased to see that there is no bad blood between the remaining Argent family members and the remaining Hales.

“Be back to help you with what?” Stiles calls out.

“Keep your nose out of other people’s business,” Allison chuckles.

“I think we all are aware that is not my strong suit...” Stiles mumbles.

“Don’t we know it,” Boyd says dryly.

“The only words you’ve said directly to me the entire time and it’s to insult me,” Stiles rolls his eyes and Boyd smiles at him.

They finally manage to leave and although Stiles keeps glancing around as they reach the road, Derek is nowhere in sight.

The ride is pleasant, all straight roads and they arrive into Beacon Rockport in very good time.

Stiles can see the ocean open up as they ride over the hills and drop down into the little town. People wave and call out greetings, seemingly very friendly, as they pass through the main streets of the town.

They continue on up toward the sea line, away from the hustle and bustle of the inner town and Christopher takes out a little map that Erica had made them, as the trees get thicker.

He guides the horses toward the left, over some rougher roads, through some woodlands. As the trees open up again, they reveal a large white brick house surrounded by a field where Stiles can see fruits and vegetables growing in abundance, crops swaying in the light breeze.

There’s even a paddock with three cows in, all of them grazing happily.

In the far distance Stiles can see the sea shore and even from here he can smell the salt in the air from the coast line.

Stiles sees a bright yellow mailbox at the end of a path leading to the house and on it, in bright red writing it says “Welcome to Fox Hollow”.

It’s absolutely perfect. A million times better than anything he ever could have imagined.

The sun beats down on his skin, summer firmly announcing her arrival and he dismounts Juliet, leading her into the shade. The others also dismount and tend their horses. There’s a stream running along the property, so he encourages Juliet to drink and he ties her to a tree so that she can graze out of the sun.

Christopher finds what appears to be a barn and he ties off the other horses, giving them water and fresh hay, which the previous owners have left behind.

“Stiles,” Melissa calls from where she’s standing on the doorstep of the house, “come here.”

Stiles strides over to her and Isaac and Scott join him.

Just as she’s searching under some rocks for a key, the red painted door is yanked open and a short man with spiky black hair is revealed. 

It looks like someone ran over his head with a lawn cutter.

“You the new owners?” He asks abruptly.

“Er yes. We are. And you are?” Melissa asks.

“Name’s Robert Finstock. But you can call me Bobby. I live up the road, at Coyote Crossing farm. I hate it, don't even like animals. I don’t suppose you want to take it off my hands and I can retire to a nice cabin somewhere in the mountains? No? Well, that’s just great, so perfect. No one ever wants Bobby’s farm. Well, before they left yesterday the Penfolds asked me to see to the cows and chickens until you arrived. Shall I show you around?” Bobby rants at them.

“Oh, no thank you, I’m sure we can manage to find our way about,” Scott smiles at the man, “would you like to join us for some food though Sir, we’ve brought a hamper?” 

Finstock’s face closes off as he glares at Scott.

Scott takes a step back, swallowing visibly in the face of such scrutiny.

“Oh right, you’re one of those then?” Finstock pokes a finger at Scott’s chest.

“One of what?” Scott gulps.

“A _know it all_ ,” Finstock gives Scott a little shove with his finger, “you’ll get on great with my farmhand Greenberg. He thinks he knows everything too.” 

Scott looks affronted and Stiles has to stifle a laugh.

“Right. Well... I’ll come back tomorrow instead to make sure you’re all settled,” Finstock peeks in the basket of food Isaac is carrying and he plucks out a chicken leg, “the Penfolds have left some basic instructions on the kitchen table for you...”

“Thank you Bobby,” Melissa says smiling.

“Ood eye,” Finstock bids them farewell, mouth already clamped around his chicken leg and he claps Stiles on the shoulder and leaves them. 

“What a strange man,” Melissa ponders, watching him go.

“You can say that again,” Scott says.

They quickly and excitedly explore the house and Isaac bursts into happy tears when he sees they each have their own bedrooms.

Stiles gets caught up in the others elation and he runs around the property, trying to take everything in at once.

It’s not until they’ve all had dinner and Scott and Isaac have retired to bed that he finds himself alone.

Then, the twinge in his chest begins and his memories flood back. 

He sits down on the wooden porch swing at the back of the house and he listens to the waves crashing in the far distance.

He looks up and sees the moon bright in the sky and he wonders if Derek is looking at the same sky somewhere too, at this very moment. 

At this very second, are they both under the same blanket of night, looking at the same stars, but hundreds of miles apart.

It’s almost perfect here. It’s everything they every dreamed of. So why isn’t he happy? 

He shakes his head. He knows why.

“Derek.” Stiles whispers.

——————

Three weeks pass by quickly and Stiles finds himself busy learning how to tend the farm. 

Greenberg, Finstock’s farmhand, proves to be a valuable help to them.

Stiles contemplates stealing him away from Bobby and paying for his services himself with the money they earn from the markets, but Greenberg is strangely loyal to the man.

Stiles settles into a new routine.

Stiles keeps busy in his days and he saves the night for pining over Derek. He didn’t say it was a healthy routine.

On a particularly hot morning, after a night of very little sleep, he goes out to collect the eggs from the chickens when he sees a figure riding up their path.

For a split second, squinting in the sun, he thinks it might be Derek but as the figure gets closer, Stiles sees it’s a man of law.

The man dismounts his horse when he’s meters away from Stiles and he takes his hat off, holding it in front of him, almost like a shield.

The man’s features look strangely familiar and Stiles puts a hand up to his brow to block out the sun, to see him better.

He notices the man is wearing a badge that says Beacon Valley Sheriff.

“You’re a long way from home Sheriff. How can I help you?” Stiles offers warily.

The man clears his throat.

“Mieczyslaw... you look just like your mother. I don’t even know where to begin. It’s me Stiles... I’m your father. And I’m so unbelievably sorry I couldn’t come back to you sooner,” the man says, eyes shining.

Stiles drops the eggs.

—————

Melissa, Stiles and the Sheriff sit around the kitchen table sipping homemade lemonade. Melissa is pressed tightly at Stiles’ side, the Sheriff opposite them and Stiles’ hands are shaking.

“Thank you for the lemonade,” John offers politely, addressing Melissa.

“It is no problem,” Melissa’s voice is light, like she’s schooling her emotions carefully. 

She claps a hand down over Stiles’ bouncing knee, stilling him.

“Where were you?” Stiles blurts and John winces visibly.

“After I left, I travelled, not really putting down any roots. I intended to get through my grief, in a way where I wasn’t dragging you down with me and then come back. It took me longer than I care to admit to get myself to a place where I could have been a good father to you... the more time that stretched by, the harder it was to return. I watched you from afar a few times, playing in the cottage garden with Scott when you were a child, Melissa watching over you both. You looked so happy. Much happier than when you’d been left alone with me after your mother passed,” John says quietly.

“I was happy... for a while,” Stiles says truthfully.

“I finally got the courage to come back, when I’d been offered a permanent job as the Sheriff, thinking maybe now you could be proud of me, not ashamed of the shell of a man I’d let myself become. I can’t explain the horror I felt when I realised you weren’t there anymore at the cottage, you’d all moved on. The new owners said that you had left no forwarding address, they’d never even met you. I looked everywhere but Beacon Hills is a large place and no-one knows where you had gone. I didn’t even know for sure that’s where you still were,” The Sheriff says sadly.

“I took a job with a family as a housemaid after you left, when the boys were a little older. I threw Rafe out, his drinking got out of control. Then when I couldn’t afford the upkeep of the cottage, the family we worked for allowed us to live with them,” Melissa says and her voice is a little colder than Stiles is used to hearing from her.

His father leaving had caused them all pain in some way.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you had to go through all that on your own Melissa...” John says, tears welling in his eyes, “I am eternally grateful for what you did for Stiles, I’ll never be able to repay you. But if you’ll let me, I’d like to start contributing to the farm. No strings attached. Just let me help you fix it up a little bit, with the money I’ve saved.” 

“We don’t need your help,” Melissa tells him.

“I know you don't. But it would make me feel useful,’ John says earnestly.

Melissa nods minutely.

“It’s up to Stiles really,” She looks at him.

“I’d quite like to get to know you I think...” Stiles says generously, “I wish you’d never left, but I didn’t try to find you either...”

“No... son, no... this isn’t on you, this is my fault. I’ll spend my whole life trying to prove to you how sorry I am, if you’ll let me,” The Sheriff says, “I only wish I’d come back sooner and I might have saved you the pain of living with the Argents...”

“How do you know all about that?” Stiles asks curiously.

“Ah... it seems we have a mutual friend... I did not realise how much our lives are already intwined... I should very much like to see Isaac if he is here, we have met before... your friend was quite informative,” John says quietly. Stiles tries to think who he could mean when John adds, “I can stay around for a few days... if you’ll let me?”

“Ok... I’d quite like that. Maybe you can help me cook breakfast?” Stiles allows and the grin John gives him is blinding.

“That sounds just perfect,” John smiles, tears in his eyes.

“How did you even find us?” Stiles has to ask. They are a long way from Beacon Valley.

He’s got so many questions he barely knows where to begin.

“Im so glad you asked that because I really wanted to tell you that part. He made me promise not to tell you unless you specifically asked. I woke up last week to a young man pounding on the door of my home. He had an insane tale of my long lost son, who he’d recently discovered himself. He offered me the details of where you would be living now and in the next breath he told me he would rip my throat out with his teeth if I ever hurt you again. Even if it was by accident,” John chuckles.

“Who? Who came to you?” Stiles demands, but he knows the answer already, his mouth has gone bone dry.

“Derek Hale,” John says, “I already knew of him and his family. It was the saddest story. Imagine my surprise when a werewolf showed up on my doorstep! He said he’d rode all night to find me...”

“I can’t even imagine,” Stiles says, smile playing on his lips at the thought of Derek pounding down his father’s door.

“He speaks very highly of you son,” John says.

Stiles makes a wounded noise.

“Melissa... Sheriff... I mean... Father... I’m afraid I need to take my leave,” Stiles stands up abruptly, “I fear I’ve made a horrific mistake...”

He can’t believe he even thought for a second he’d survive without Derek in his life. 

The man literally hunted down his father for him.

If Derek feels even half the strength of feeling for Stiles, that Stiles feels for Derek himself, Stiles knows that expecting Derek moving on to love another is a foolish notion.

He has been so stupid.

He will love Derek until his dying breath and he’s caused him so much pain. Himself too.

It feels like there is an anvil sitting on his chest.

Melissa grins up at him, witness to his epiphany.

“I shall ride back with you,” The Sheriff picks up his hat as if he knows where he is headed, “if you’d like?”

“I would like that... very much,” Stiles nods.

———— 

They make the ride in under three hours, Stiles pushing Juliet harder than he usually would.

The horse doesn’t seem to mind, in fact he has to pull her back from an outright gallop more times than once. 

She’s truly a magnificent creature.

Stiles feels anticipation build in his gut when he reaches the grounds of the Hale house and he leaves his father behind, cantering Juliet up the path. 

He dismounts hurriedly and crashes up the steps pounding on the door. It doesn’t open, so he takes his lock pick out and he makes short work of the heavy door, his patience at an all time low.

It swings open and he rushes inside, but the sight he’s met with stops him dead in his tracks.

All of the furnishings are covered in dust sheets and some have been removed completely. There are clean squares on the walls, indicating where all of the paintings have been removed.

Stiles runs up the stairwell and he makes his way frantically to Derek’s bedroom. When he enters, he feels sick to his stomach and he has to balance a hand on Derek’s dresser, one of the few items left in the room. The drawers are hanging open, completely empty.

The bedsheets are gone, mattress bare.

Stiles throws open the wardrobe and no clothes are in there.

He sits down on the floor, breath coming sharp and fast.

He’s left it too long.

Derek has indeed moved on.

——————

Stiles wraps up in his sheets and he sobs inconsolably, when he finally arrives home at Fox Hollow. 

His father had rode back with him after they’d spent a few hours searching out some food and letting the horses recuperate. Stiles had managed to just about keep himself together until he’d returned to the safety of his new home.

He had bid a quick hello to Allison and Christopher before taking himself to bed. They have appeared for what seems to be an unexpected weekend visit. 

Stiles didn’t know they were coming but he’s very much not in the mood for discussion, he wants to be alone.

Melissa makes up a bed in the spare bedroom for the Sheriff and Stiles is strangely glad to have him nearby. 

It’s comforting.

After Stiles has sobbed so much that his throat feels raw, he feels his bed dip. 

Scott creeps under the covers with him, like he did when they were children.

Scott wraps his arms around him and tucks Stiles’ head under his arm, squeezing him tightly to him.

“You loved him,” Scott says sadly, “you should never have left with us...” 

“I know... I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Stiles grips his best friend tightly, nose running all over his shirt.

Scott, bless his soul, doesn’t seem to pay him any mind.

“It could be worse,” Scott soothes, running a hand over his head.

“How?” Stiles whimpers miserably.

“At least he didn’t have a murderous grandfather and an aunt that tried to gut you like a pig...” Scott hums.

Stiles laughs despite himself.

“No, this is true... I should count myself lucky really,’ Stiles sniffles.

“I agree... now... stop with the tears, Isaac has snuck up a tray of cookies and the milk from the cows has finally been pasteurised. We’ve made a tent out of our blankets in Isaac’s room, like old times. I’ve even told Allison I can’t see her until the morning... come on... It will be like it used to,” Scott wipes Stiles’ tears and them promptly shoves him out of the bed.

Stiles lands on his backside with an oomph.

“I assume the cookies are pecan and walnut...” Stiles warns.

“Of course. I know they are you’re favourite. Plus, we put chocolate chips in them too,” Scott smiles, standing up.

“I love you Scotty,” Stiles tells him truthfully.

“I love you too. Now come on, hurry. I can’t bear your moping a moment longer,” Scott drags him out of the room.

Scott and Isaac stay awake with him, keeping up a stream of meaningless chatter, until Stiles falls asleep much later that night. 

Stiles dreams of running through the farmland, black wolf nipping playfully at his heels.

He wakes more than once, convinced that he can hear howls outside of the window, but it’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

His sleep is disturbed and his night is restless.

—————

Stiles awakens tangled in Isaac’s bedsheets. 

Stiles is laying on the floor and his brothers are piled on top of him, snoring away. 

Stiles scrambles his way out from under them.

He realises it’s ridiculously early by the way the cockerel hasn’t even crowed yet.

His eyes feel puffy from his tears, but his head feels slightly clearer than the night before.

He walks down to the ocean front and he takes a long swim in the water to organise his thoughts. 

It takes him over an hour to walk there and then back, but by the time he returns, his skin is tingling from the sun and he feels relaxed and more himself.

All he needs to do now is never think of Derek ever again and he might just survive until tomorrow.

Easy.

He grabs a scone from a tray that Melissa is just taking out of the oven, juggling it between his hands until it’s cool enough to take a bite.

He thinks that Derek would enjoy these scones.

Curses.

He knows what he needs. He needs to stay busy, to occupy his mind.

“Mel... Melly, Melly, Melly... before the others awaken, let me help you with some chores... can I do anything to help you today? I know Greenberg said he wouldn’t be down until the weekend, something about Finstock needing him all day, every day this week,” Stiles tries, all false cheer.

Melissa narrows her eyes at him.

“There _is_ one thing you can do for me actually. Run these scones up to Coyote Crossing,” Melissa hands him a basket.

“What? Aw no, really? I can’t handle conversing with Bobby before midday, you know what he’s like in the mornings,” Stiles complains.

The last time he’d crossed paths with Bobby before the man had eaten his lunch, Finstock had chased him down and pushed him in the stream. 

Stiles had only bid him good morning while passing in the road, that was all.

“Go... While they’re still warm,” Melissa shoves him out of the door, basket in hand.

Stiles eats two more scones on his way there, stopping to pick a few tulips to bring back to Melissa.

He’s never actually been up to Coyote Crossing itself but he notices a sign directing him where to go and so he follows the path.

The path leads to beautiful stretch of farmland, significantly larger than the land on Fox Hollow. 

The house is roughly the same size though, appearing in the distance.

Stiles cuts his way through the fields, working his way to where he hears a rhythmic thumping.

He clears the crop line and he promptly drops the basket to the floor in shock. People would do well to quit surprising him when he has full hands.

There Derek stands, firm torso bare and glistening in the mid morning sun, biceps straining as he chops wood, a large pile of splits towering next to him already. Stiles’ eyes linger on the dark hair covering Derek’s chest and he feels his blood rush south at the sight of him, so magnificent.

Derek sniffs the air and he looks up. 

Derek glances at the basket on the floor and then he embeds the axe so hard in the stump he’s chopping on that Stiles flinches.

Stiles just stands there frozen in place. 

It’s like his brain is not able to process what he is seeing.

Derek just waits, small smile playing on his lips.

“What in the hell do you think you are doing?” Stiles picks up the basket and he storms toward him.

Derek crosses his arms defensively over his chest, as if he fears Stiles’ words may hurt him.

“I’m chopping wood,” Derek huffs, rolling his eyes, “obviously...”

“Well I can see that much, but why are you chopping wood at _Finstock’s_ house?!” Stiles is feeling more than a little hysterical.

Maybe he’s hallucinating. What the hell was in those scones.

“It’s not Finstock’s house. It’s mine, Cora, Erica and Boyd’s house. We arrived here last night,” Derek shrugs.

“I’m so horribly confused....” Stiles looks around, as if he will find answers from the nearby plants and a thought occurs to him, “oh my gods... You planned this. That’s what Christopher meant when he said he was returning to help you... they arrived with you last night...”

“I asked them to only tell Melissa we had arrived and I hoped she’d send you over when she heard we were here. I’ve been fancying a quieter life for a while though,” Derek shrugs defensively, “when I realised you thought I deserved a life of nobility and marriage to some fair lady, it pushed me to finalise my decision in my head. That night we made love, I knew I’d follow you anywhere, in a heartbeat. But I also knew you’d never ask me to...”

“But... but... your house? Your beautiful house...” Stiles says weakly.

“We sold it. To the Martins. Lydia helped facilitate the negotiations. They’re quite happy with their purchase. Although I think they may tear down the old Hale house part,” Derek hums thoughtfully, as if he were having a conversation as casual as talking about the weather.

“You jest... You must jest... Your beautiful house, your family name... you can’t give all that up to become a _farmer_!” Stiles is aware his voice is getting higher and higher.

Derek looks genuinely affronted.

“Yes. I can. Don’t presume to tell me what I can and can’t do. If you had bothered to even ask me, I would have told you that I had been thinking about selling the house for a while, wondering what to do with my life. That’s why we rebuilt, with that eventual intention. I didn’t want to uproot Peter while he was still injured, but that obviously isn’t a burden any longer...” Derek frowns at Stiles.

Stiles can feel a ridiculous fluttering beginning in his stomach.

“And you thought _this_ house, was the house for you?” Stiles’ eyes dance with barely contained happiness.

Derek relaxes his stance at Stiles’ tone, sensing a turn in the conversation.

“It has many great features... healthy land, lovely house, close to the ocean... it’s very close to what I hear are quite remarkable landmarks... I hear the neighbours are very welcoming,” Derek’s eyes twinkle, adorable front teeth just poking out over his lip.

“Where is Bobby Finstock?” Stiles asks incredulously.

“He rode off into the sunset when we arrived last night, laughing his backside off and shouting “Au revoir you fools”...” Derek chuckles.

“What did you have to pay him, to see him off?” Stiles asks, curious.

“Three times what the house is actually worth, I believe...” Derek answers and he steps closer to Stiles, “but I would have given him ten times that, so he’s the fool.”

“You’ve given up everything Derek... your life, your amazing house...” Stiles breathes, Derek now just a metre in front of him, “I did not want this for you.”

“Stop presuming to make my decisions for me, I know my own mind. My life is not my wealth Stiles. I have given up nothing that actually matters in my eyes. I’ve told you that I don’t care about property or money.. I want _you_. Without you, even with all the riches in the world, I am as poor as a beggar on the streets. None of that matters to me. It never did. All I want is home,” Derek inches closer again.

“You had a home! You sold it!” Stiles is just barely holding on to all his reasoning.

“Home to me is not the house Stiles. Home is Cora, Boyd, Erica... home to me is you...” Derek licks his lips and holds his hands in fists at his sides.

“That’s terribly romantic Derek,” Stiles feels like he might cry again.

“Yes well... you seem to bring that out in me,” Derek grins and he comes closer again, eyes now on Stiles’ mouth.

Derek places a hand on Stiles’ chest, right above his heart.

“But allow me to be serious for a moment Stiles... it all comes down to you. I knew the second I met you, never had I been more sure of anything in my life... I don’t want to be without you. For the first time in a long time, you made me feel not only alive, but like I wanted to _live_. You restored my faith in people Stiles, you gave me my hope back. Your whole being, your foundations, right down to your core, your very bones, they are so pure, so _good_ ,” Derek sighs, breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips, “I could live anywhere in the world as long as you were by my side... you are my safety, my haven. Don’t you understand yet? _You’re_ my house...” Derek continues.

Stiles jumps at Derek sending him toppling over and Derek hits the ground on his back with an oomph, Stiles straddling his waist. 

Derek brings his hands to Stiles’ hips, smiling shyly.

A wayward scone rolls past Derek’s head.

“You love me...” Stiles grins, elated.

“I told you that I did.” Derek frowns at him. 

“I did not believe you. Not really. I thought you didn’t know what you wanted,” Stiles can’t stop smiling.

“Well then, you are an idiot,” Derek grins back.

“Now you are just being offensive. I can’t believe you sent me my father,” Stiles bites on his lip.

Derek has the good sense to blush.

“I hope I didn’t overstep with that, it’s just... when you spoke of him, I could hear the pain lacing your voice. I asked around the town before I went to him, that’s what I was doing the week you were leaving. I found out he was a good man, before I told him anything about you,” Derek looks down bashfully, ducking his chin.

Stiles takes his jaw and he brings Derek’s head back up to look at him.

“I can’t ever repay you for that,” Stiles nods sincerely.

“You already have with what you’ve given me,” Derek sits up with Stiles in his lap, bringing them face to face, holding onto him, grounding him, “I’ll happily be in your debt until the day I die.”

“So what do we do now?” Stiles asks, eyes bright.

“Well... I think you should all come over here to dinner tonight... I can show you around the new house and grounds, I think it should please you. Bobby Finstock has left an abundance of useful tools for us. We shall keep his farmhand Greenberg on with us, to show us how to tend the land. I’m quite looking forward to seeing to the fields tomorrow, having something useful to do with my days. I can show you my large hoe out in the barn this evening,” Derek says earnestly.

Stiles snorts uncontrollably.

“What is so amusing to you?” Derek frowns at him.

“I’m just really hoping that “large hoe” is a secret code, for you wanting to show me your penis in the barn,” Stiles sniggers.

Derek flushes beetroot red and Stiles presses his hand to his own mouth to cut off his laughter. 

He’ll never get tired of teasing Derek. Hopefully, he will have their entire lives to do so.

Derek narrows his eyes at him.

“I would just tell you if that’s what I meant, I would be direct. I wouldn’t use a secret code... I would have just said exactly that,” Derek huffs, bristling.

“Hmm, I’m not so sure, I think you’re still too proper to lower yourself to my vulgar level. I think you will continue to hide behind pretty euphemisms. You can take the boy out of his noble surroundings but you can’t take the nobility out of the boy,” Stiles strokes over Derek’s face playfully.

“Are you so sure about that?” Derek grins, challenge in his eyes.

“Yes... I am quite sure...” Stiles gulps at the look on Derek’s face.

“Ok... well then... Stiles. I want you come over here tonight. I want to show you my penis in the barn,” Derek delivers, tone dry as a bone, eyebrows furrowed deep and his lips pursed.

Stiles laughs so much his sides hurt.

—————

Some months later, the entire Hale pack and Stiles’ family are sitting in the large lounging room of Coyote Crossing, relaxing together after a big dinner.

Stiles looks around at them all, at how far they’ve come and he counts his blessings.

Erica winks at him as she passes Boyd a bottle of wine. She takes a long drink from the bottle before handing it over to him. Boyd doesn’t hesitate and he follows her lead, copying her actions.

Stiles grins at her. Erica, always so improper, following nobody’s rules, she makes Stiles look like a saint.

Isaac is sat relaxing with Cora in his lap, arms around her waist and they’re both happier than Stiles has ever seen them. Despite the warm evening, Isaac has an ugly bright orange scarf wrapped around his neck which Cora keeps adjusting on him. Isaac occasionally tickles Cora’s sides and her laughter fills the room.

Melissa is locked in animated conversation with Christopher and Stiles can see she’s getting flushed, Christopher inching closer to her by the second.

They’re arguing about Allison and Scott’s upcoming wedding plans and where the ceremony is going to be held. Allison and Scott are out in the kitchen after cleverly offering to prepare desert, so they can avoid having to come between Melissa and Christopher. 

Stiles doesn’t have the heart to tell them that Allison and Scott are planning to elope, to avoid the inevitability and fuss of a big celebration, content to just confess their vows to each other.

Derek is across the room talking to John, his father, about the ins and outs of crab fishing, a skill Derek has recently acquired. Derek occasionally sneaks private, shy little smiles in Stiles’ direction.

Derek excuses himself from John’s company when he sees that Stiles keeps looking over to him. 

He makes his way to where Stiles is leaning on the door frame, watching them all contentedly.

Derek hands him a letter he’d had tucked under his arm.

“This is from Lydia. I already read it this morning,” Stiles takes it off him anyway.

“I know. You left it on my bedside table. It has your name on it. But the address on the front is here, not to Fox hollow... I was curious, why would that be?” Derek comments lightly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Stiles’ mouth.

“You know, Lydia always claimed she had the gift of foresight...” Stiles hums thoughtfully.

Derek’s eyes light up.

“Are you saying...?” Derek asks hopefully.

“If you’ll have me... I suppose it makes sense... you barely let me leave your bed anyway... I may as well call this place home,” Stiles pretends to be annoyed by that fact.

Derek’s eyes flash red and he turns to address the room suddenly, startling Stiles. 

It’s much like how he acted the time at Derek’s dinner table, the night they first made love.

“Stiles and I are going out to see the barn,” Derek announces loudly, “I need to show him my large hoe, immediately.”

Stiles groans and he places his head into his hands. 

After they were reunited months ago, their conversation about going to the barn to see Derek’s hoe had very much so turned into a somewhat secret code for them after all. 

Derek only usually uses the phrase humorously, a private joke shared between them, when he’s feeling particularly inclined to bed Stiles urgently.

No one is actually going to believe Derek is genuine with his phrase now, Stiles groans. 

It’s more than obvious where they are going and what for. Derek grabs his hand and grins at him, and suddenly Stiles can’t find it in himself to care what anyone else thinks.

Erica’s eyes widen with glee and his father sends a deathly glare in Derek’s direction.

“Oh that’s great Derek! Stiles, make sure you really test out Derek’s hoe for durability. I think ours is about to give up on us and I’ve been meaning to purchase a new one. Let me know if it’s sturdy enough, maybe we can acquire the same model,” Scott comments popping his head into the room and then he heads back to the kitchen.

Allison appears holding her side and laughing.

Derek turns and he looks at Stiles, eyebrows raised comically.

Of course. Some things will never change.

They’re not fooling anyone at all. 

They’re not fooling anyone _apart_ from his sweet, naive Scott, Stiles amends.

—————

Scott arrives into the barn later that evening, intending to try Derek’s hoe out for himself. 

He is so very upset when he realises what Derek and Stiles actually meant, inconsolable even. 

Scott runs all the way back to Fox Hollow, not even stopping to fetch Allison and Derek swears to Stiles that he can hear Scott’s distressed howls long after he’s gone.

The whole thing is not helped because Scott had gotten a very good look at Stiles’ bare backside. 

Scott doesn’t see fit talk to either of them for a full week.

Derek has to purchase Scott a new hoe to make up for the entire thing.

—————

**Author's Note:**

> Please don’t post this work anywhere else but here, I am just borrowing the teen wolf characters.
> 
> This work was really consuming for me, in the best way. I couldn’t get it out of my mind as I was writing it and it didn’t turn out how I thought it would, however it turned out exactly as I feel it should have in the end.
> 
> It also didn’t work as one long fic, hence the chapters but I’m an impatient bunny, just like Derek, so I thought to hell with it all and I’ve posted it all in one go. I regret nothing...
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support so far. You keep me writing and the positivity of you guys is just unbelievably motivating to me.
> 
> Any glaring errors or missed tags, please let me know. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it for what it turned out to be...
> 
> Much love, as always x


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